


Babylon

by mcgarrygirl78



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-19
Updated: 2011-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:32:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Trust me, Agent Hotchner, I don’t think psychopaths or psychopathy is sexy.  Is psychopathy a word?  Anyway, I just know how many books, movie tickets and CDs it can sell.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Babylon

**Author's Note:**

> I do not follow Ke$ha on Twitter but this story is born entirely from one of her tweets that I read and thought ‘hell yeah Emily Prentiss would be a kickass rock star’. That’s a true story. Many things about New York in this story are from info I got online so know that I'm not a native and it probably shows.

“It’s about time to wrap this up. I just have one more question for you Emily and I think its one your fans really want to know the answer to.”

“Oh God, what?” Emily laughed a bit, drinking from her water glass.

“What's the one thing you hate the most about this life? People think celebrities have it so good but they hear it in the music, sometimes this life can be poisonous. You're rich, you're famous, and you have it all. But what's the truth of the matter?”

“Adam, there are so many truths to the matter that perhaps you should've asked me that question first instead of last. Here’s the biggest truth…I don’t do this on my own. I have a band and they are more than three people who play instruments and look pretty. They are an extension of me; we’re an extension of each other. Everyone wants to touch me, see me, and feel me.

“My band is me. Penelope Garcia wrote our only number one hit. We wouldn’t even have a band if Derek Morgan hadn't answered our ad for a lead guitar player. Eric Cooper is the best drummer out of New York since Clem Burke. Babylon is a band; it’s not a pretty girl and a blurb. We’re a whole and we function that way and I think the industry, all of the industries, need to get with the program.

“I'm not going to let them take me away from the people who matter. And I won't let them do that to the fans either. So you girls that follow Morgan around, keep coming out, keep loving him and showing your support. And yes, Penelope is in talks to start shopping around some of her unique fashions on a smaller scale. And yes, ladies, Coop is still single. So love Babylon, not just Emily Prentiss, because she's nothing without them.”

“Thank you so much for your time, Emily.” Adam Jackson turned toward the camera. “Babylon’s second album, _Ashes and Dust_ , came out a week ago. I suggest you run out and buy it right now because it kicks ass. And the band will be coming to a small venue near you very soon as they embark on a summer tour. We’ll see you back here Friday on _The Turn Table_.”

“And we’re out.” the director did a slash motion across his throat.

“Water, Adam,” Emily held up her glass. “Whose idea of a joke was that? I need caffeine to function babe. You should know me better than that.”

“It'll never happen again.” Adam replied.

“Thanks.” Emily stood and started unhooking all the wires attached to her. They slid the microphone wire all the way down her red tank top, attaching the battery to the top of her jeans. Her back was itching like crazy and she just wanted to rip her shirt off. This was especially so because she only had the coffee from first thing this morning barely running through her veins. “You should come out to VIP tonight; we’re doing a forty minute set with Backslide and Coal Miner’s Daughter. I’ll make sure your name is on the list. Spencer will be there.”

“I wouldn’t just show up cuz Spencer’s there.”

“Yeah but I bet it helps.” Emily smiled.

“I'm no competition for Derek Morgan.” Adam said.

“That’s true, but what's that got to do with anything.”

“Isn't Spencer fucking Derek?”

“Oh my God, he wishes.” Emily laughed. “They're really just friends. And I guess you can call them roommates since Spencer has been putting a dent in Morgan’s sofa bed for like two years now. He might get a chance to get his groove on but it’s not a love match. Just come out tonight.” Emily put her hand on his shoulder. “Eat, drink, be merry, and get laid.”

“I’ll do my best.” Adam replied.

Emily nodded, smiled, and walked away. Sam Kassmeyer was waiting just off set, his face as sweet and jovial as always. Emily rolled her eyes and leaned her body on his.

“Oh my God, I need coffee stat. I cannot believe I was expected to hold a serious conversation with limited caffeine. It’s a violation of my eighth amendment rights.”

“You were great though.” Sam said. “I like what you said at the end.”

“I meant every word of it. Love, can you get me a big cup of coffee?”

“Do you want Ethiopian Sidamo?”

“Mmm…yes please.”

“I’ll be right back.” Sam kissed her temple, watching Emily walk into the green room before going in the opposite direction.

“Hey, I don't even know what time it is but it’s too damn early to be functioning without coffee. And it’s fine that everyone is all new agey and living without the bean but I love the bean dammit. And not to go all diva on you but c'mon Jason, I mean I am sorta kinda locally famous. They give nobodies coffee. I don’t even care if its bad, I just…what's the matter?”

“Hmm?”

Jason looked at her with a strange look on his face. Many people thought that Jason Gideon wore a blank look but Emily knew that was never true. He was always thinking, always contemplating. She thought he thought too much, not that she was able to stop him. But blank look…know Jason Gideon longer than 10 minutes and you’d know that was impossible.

“What's the matter with you?”

“You got another letter.” He said.

“What? When?”

“It was in this batch of mail I brought over from my office. I started going through it while you were doing your interview. The tone of this one takes it up to a level that concerns me.”

“Let me see.” Emily held out her hand as she approached him.

“Absolutely not.” Jason stuffed it back into the envelope. “It'll just upset you.”

“I'm a big girl, Jason.”

“No.” he said it in the tone that let Emily know that it wasn’t up for discussion. He rarely used that tone with her. “Its time to do something about this. We’ve gotten our share of strange fruit over the years but this…”

“What are we going to do?” she asked. “The police don’t give a shit, as if they’ve never heard of John Lennon, Rebecca Schaffer, or Haley Brooks.”

“I know a guy; this kind of thing is his specialty.”

“You know a guy who specializes in whack jobs?”

“Yeah.” Jason nodded.

“That’s why I love you, you know.” Emily managed a smile even though her stomach churned at 100 miles an hour. She surely was seconds from losing that bagel she had for breakfast.

The knock on the door caused them both to jump. Jason stepped in front of Emily before she could move to answer it. He went himself; Sam Kassmeyer was on the other side with coffee.

“Get in here you.” Emily said. “Now I really need that.”

“Don’t scald your mouth.” Sam replied as she reached for it like an eager toddler. “Its fresh and its hot.”

“That’s what so many parents used to say about me.” Emily winked. “Freakboy sent me another letter.”

“What?” Sam looked at Gideon, concern all over his face and his bold blue eyes. “What did it say?”

“I don't know…Daddy won't let me see it.”

“She doesn’t need to see it.” Gideon said. “It’s going to be a long day; this doesn't need to be on her mind.”

“Do you really think that because I haven’t seen the letter it won't be on my mind?” Emily asked. “Yeah right.”

“I shouldn’t have told you.” he replied.

“We don’t keep things from each other.”

Emily’s tone wasn’t questioning, angry, firm, or anything in between. She was just stating an absolute fact. There were only a small amount of people, not including her father and stepmother, who she trusted wholly. Jason was one of those people. They were always honest with each other, even when it hurt. Pain was worth it when you could have real trust with someone.

“No, we don’t. But that doesn’t mean I have to share all the gory details. Just let me call my friend; its time for us to get ahead of this person.”

“Your friend?” Sam raised his eyebrow. He just smiled when Emily pulled him over to where she was sitting on the arm of the couch. She put her forehead on his chest; Sam stroked her raven hair.

“He knows Kevin Costner.” Emily replied in a muffled voice.

“That did nothing to help me.” Sam said.

“I have a friend in the FBI who specializes in stalking.” Jason said. “I think its time he looked at these letters and gifts. None of us want this to escalate.”

“Damn straight we don’t.”

“Emily we need to get over to SoHo for the _Paper_ shoot. We've got about 45 minutes to spare and traffic won't be on our side at this time of morning.”

“You talked to them, right?” Emily asked. “You had a long talk with them?”

“Babylon is a group; Emily Prentiss is not a solo act.” Jason replied.

“It’s more than that, Gideon. The utter lack of respect for the people I love drives me nuts.”

“Everyone doesn’t do that.”

“Yeah, well too many people do. Make sure the wardrobe people know Penelope brings her own stuff. Coop refuses to wear anything but Chucks and thinks its bad luck not to have at least one drumstick in the photo. Morgan should be fine as long as there are pretty girls, boys, and coffee there. And I'm not taking any solo shots today.”

“Emily…”

“I'm serious, Jason. We’re a band dammit and I'm not going all Gwen Stefani on the people who knew me when. _Paper_ doesn’t have to like it; they can kiss my ass.”

“Alright, alright,” Jason sighed. “It’s not your ass I'm thinking about at this exact moment.”

“That’s not what you said last night.” Emily laughed. Sam gasped and she wrapped her arms around his middle. “I'm kidding; I'm totally kidding.”

“We need to get a cab.” Jason said shaking his head.

“Are you coming with?” Emily asked Sam. She stood from the arm of the couch, slipping her messenger bag across her chest.

“No. I need to get to the place that pays me.”

“Say to hell with it, just for one day.”

“You know I can't do that. The rock goddess dream is yours, Em, not mine. You know where to find me whenever you need me.”

“I need you right now.” she said.

“You're beautiful when you pout.” Sam took her hand, pulling her into a sweet, if chaste, kiss.

All three of them headed out of the green room, out of the studio, and onto the busy Manhattan street. It was still rush hour so street and foot traffic was insane. Jason’s eyes were everywhere though he knew Emily was safe with Sam close by. The guy would take three bullets for her if he had to. Jason surely hoped it never came to something like that. He hailed a cab; one stopped immediately.

“You'll be at the show tonight?” Emily asked.

“Yes, and I'm bringing Nat. We’re both looking forward to it. Now go.”

“I love you.”

“Love you more. Bye Jason.”

“See ya Sam.” Jason got Emily into the cab before climbing in himself. He gave the driver the SoHo address. “You should marry him.”

“Who, Sam?”

“Yeah.” Jason nodded.

“Oh God, no…I love him too much to inflict that sort of pain on him.”

“He loves you too much to turn you down.”

“Exactly. It would go horribly, horribly awry. I'm talking Lifetime Movie Network awry.” Emily finished her coffee. “We’re so much better where we are. Maybe I'm just a selfish tart and I'm so much better where we are.” She sighed.

“That’s probably closer to the truth, though I don’t think you're a tart.”

“Anyway, and this stays between us…I'm not exactly over the Ian debacle. It was a lot of bullshit and I need time inside my single girl shell. They say it takes double the time of your relationship to get over it.”

“I surely hope they're wrong where that man is concerned.” Jason replied.

“Believe me, so do I.”

***

Their set was just ending and Emily loved the applause. She never got enough of connecting with an audience. They ended tonight with a rocking, rousing rendition of Tupac’s _I Get Around_. It was so awesome to hear the crowd cheering and singing along. Now the band was heading back to the lounge area behind the stage. Groupies, wannabes, hangers on, drug dealers, small time record people, and everyone else was already back there.

VIP was a small venue and three bands were on the bill tonight. Everyone was forced to be together whether they liked it or not. That was the life when you were almost famous. Emily usually didn't mind one bit. Some random person handed her a beer in the hallway; Jason took it from her immediately. He passed it off to Morgan who passed it off to one of the roadies.

“Minus the shitacular acoustics in this place, it was a good set.” Emily plopped down on a chair in the lounge. Jason gave her a bottle of water. She gave him the look so he went and got her a beer too.

“Drink both.” He said, meaning it.

“Everybody loved Tupac.” Derek said, his brown eyes scanning the room for lovely ladies. “I think it’s good for future shows.”

“I love that idea.”

Ever since their first show, Babylon always performed covers for their encores. It was a way of showing appreciation for the musicians who came before them and inspired and the ones still inspiring today. Everything from Blondie to Tupac to the Dixie Chicks, they were four people with four different musical personalities. They loved to come together and make magic.

“Did you see Ian?” Coop asked, opening his own beer. His one hand was still moving as if he was on the drum kit. It would for the next 15 minutes or so. That was one of Eric Cooper’s many quirks.

“Please tell me you're joking.” Emily rolled her eyes.

“He was out there.” Morgan replied. “You know he's friends with the Backslide guys.”

“He can't fuckin stand Paul and Kyle. He's here because I am. Keep him away from me, Jason. I am so not in the mood tonight.”

“I will.” Jason nodded.

“Where did Penelope go?” Emily asked.

“Kevin and Josh were getting flack trying to come backstage.” Coop said. “She's out there kicking ass and taking names. I need women!” he exclaimed. “I need more beer and a woman’s landscape to conquer!”

“And he wonders why he has no girlfriend.” Morgan rustled Coop’s brown hair.

“Hey Emily.”

“Hello gorgeous!” she reached up for Ashley Seaver, pulling the teenager into her lap. “Who did you have to show your tits to get back here?”

“Russ remembered me.” she replied smiling. “I was waylaid though…Ian Doyle is out there.”

“He didn’t bother you did he?”

“Nah, he was just overly enthused to have a conversation with me. I was cordial but got the hell out of dodge as fast as I could.”

“That’s because you were raised right.” Emily kissed her cheek.

Ashley was 16 going on 25…technically Emily wasn’t supposed to be engaged in any lewd activity with or around her. That surely included drinking, sex, and debauchery. Technically went out the window almost two weeks after they met in March. Emily couldn’t help it. She was a sucker for pretty eyes, a sweet face, and a sad story.

Ashley’s dad was a lifer, doing time in Sing Sing on a murder rap. Her mom ran off years ago and she was being raised by her maternal grandmother in Brooklyn. Grandma Seaver was happy so long as Ashley got decent grades in school, never stole from her, and didn’t become addicted to meth like those kids she saw on TV. Emily wondered how Grandma Seaver would feel about the provocative pictures the budding photographer took of her granddaughter. Oh hell, she was only human; the girl was beautiful. As long as everyone in the situation had their eyes wide open it was all good.

And Ashley Seaver may have been 16 according to the Gregorian calendar but in life years she and Emily were pretty much the same age. Better she take care of her then Ashley getting mixed up with the seriously wrong crowd. Not that the DA would accept that as a defense for corrupting the morals of a minor. Her adventures with Ashley were going to be a good chapter in Emily’s rock memoir. She would be right between the crazy ass ex and the cusp of indie rock greatness.

“Emily, you were amazing tonight.”

“Nat!”

She bounced up from the chair, which meant Ashley did as well. Emily threw her arms around her stepmother and hugged her tight. Natalie married Emily’s dad, Ambassador Gregory Prentiss, when she was ten. When she came to New York to live with them at 14, it was Natalie who helped turn Emily’s life around. Her mother, Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss, was at her wit’s end with her daughter’s out of control behavior.

There was sex, drugs, and rock n roll all over Europe. Emily was surely tainting the Prentiss name. More importantly, she was embarrassing her mother and that was unacceptable. She called her ex-husband and told him to come and collect his unruly child. She was washing her hands of the situation. Emily was shipped from Rome to JFK Airport.

She hadn't seen her father in two years and had only met her stepmother three times. It was an awkward and tense reunion. Emily was a wild child, used to living her life how she wanted and consequences be damned. It was a self-destructive way for someone so young. With her dad and Nat she was able to see the value of a family unit. Yes, she still partied and played; that would never change.

But she also got good grades in school, learned to play guitar and retrained herself on piano. She picked up a photography hobby, started writing music, and focused again on studying foreign languages. It was a quirky habit she dropped at 12 in favor of drugs and parties. Natalie encouraged her artistic side, thought it was great when Emily and Penelope started their first band. She brought Gregory down from the ledge when Emily decided to put Yale on the back burner and pursue her musical dreams.

“Daddy couldn’t make it?” Emily asked.

“He had an important dinner meeting that he couldn’t cancel.” Nat replied. “But we’re coming to Scranton Saturday for your show there. Sam has been gracious enough to chauffeur us around like the sweet young man he is. Your dad will be there, Em, I promise.”

“OK.” Emily smiled at Sam and gave him a hug too. She knew nothing in the world would make her parents happier than for her to marry Sam Kassmeyer. They were quite happy to see Ian go. “Well I'm glad that you made it tonight.”

“I didn’t want to miss it. It was wonderful; you're so good at this.” She kissed Emily’s cheek. “Still, this place is a little insane for me. I just wanted to come back here and give you a big hug and tell you how well you did.”

“How are you getting home?” Emily asked.

“The driver is outside. You really were amazing.”

“Thank you, Nat; thanks for everything.”

“I’ll walk you out Natalie.”

“Thanks Sam.”

He squeezed Emily’s shoulder and started walking her stepmother out. Natalie stopped to talk to the other band members, including Penelope, who’d finally made it to the lounge area with her boyfriend Kevin Lynch and his best friend Josh Beardsley. She even had a hug for Spencer, who the band called the Fifth Beatle. He always looked like he could use a big hug.

“How long do you want to stay?” Jason asked.

“I want to wait until Coal Miner’s Daughter gets off stage.” Emily replied. “You know it’s important to show our support. Do you need to go?”

“I'm not leaving you.”

“What's going on, Gideon? You’ve been stuck to me all day. I'm not objecting, you’ve always been stellar company, but you need to tell me what's happening.”

“That letter I read today scared me.” he lowered his voice. There were lots of people around and lots of noise. That didn’t mean someone wouldn’t pick up a piece of something that ended up making _The Post_ by morning. That was the last thing he, or Emily, needed. “You know that it takes a hell of a lot to scare me. There is someone delusional out there who might want to hurt you. I am never going to let that happen. I stay until you leave; end of story.”

“What about the guy you know?” Emily asked. “Did you call him? Can he help with this?”

“He’ll be here soon.” Jason put his arm around her. “You're going to be fine. We will keep you safe.”

Emily nodded, though she wasn’t sure what she believed at the moment. She was never one to feel sorry for herself but why was this happening to her. She’d been working toward the goal of being a musician since she was 16 years old. Her band’s album was selling well and they could all feel it…something was about to happen. She just hoped that something wasn’t their lead singer being chopped into little pieces.

***

She saw him coming, couldn’t have avoided him if she wanted to. She really, really wanted to. Emily and Sam were walking back from the ladies room; Jason wasn’t joking when he said she couldn’t be alone tonight. Ian and his cousin Sean, who played lead guitar for their band Brogue, were walking toward them. She shivered when Sam put a protective hand on her back.

“Can I talk to you?” Ian said. His Irish accent was slurred.

Great, Emily thought, he's been drinking a lot. This wasn’t going to end well.

“I don’t think so Ian.”

“We were together for almost two years and I can't have five minutes of your time? What the fuck is that, Emily?”

“She said no, Doyle.” Sam said.

“Sam…”

“Tell your lapdog to heel, would cha?”

“Cute,” She smirked. “And you wonder why I don’t wanna do this. I gotta go.”

She went to walk away but he grabbed hold of her wrist so she couldn’t.

“Five minutes.” He said.

“Let me go, Ian.” He made no move to do so. “Let me go!”

He did when she said it in a firmer tone. Now she was holding onto Sam to keep him from going off on the guy. Emily sighed. Why did he have to come there tonight and be like this? He was always taking the moment away from her.

“Five minutes.” She relented.

“Emily…”

“I'm OK, Sam.”

“I’d like to talk alone.” He said.

“We’re talking in this hallway. You can live with it or you can walk away; dealer’s choice.”

“Fine.” Ian sighed. “Tell him to go away.” he glared at Sam. He wasn’t stupid; Kassmeyer was in love with his girl. He had been forever, it was obvious, and he was willing to take Ian’s sloppy seconds. A part of him felt sorry for the guy but most of the time he wanted to kick Kassmeyer in the balls.

“Sam isn’t going anywhere. We’ll go and stand over there.”

Emily walked over to the wall. Sean and Sam stood a few feet away, both men looking as if this was not the best idea but having no control over their respective loved ones. So they hung back and hoped they wouldn’t have to get into the middle of anything. It wouldn’t be the first time for Sean. He wanted Ian to get over Emily…she was ruining all of their plans. He didn’t know whether to hate her or his beloved cousin for that.

“What's up?” Emily crossed her arms.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on _Ashes and Dust_. I heard its doing decent on the indie chart.”

“Thanks, I've been hearing the same. We’re excited to take it on the road.”

“Kyle told me that you took the song we wrote off the final set list.” He said.

“It was for the best Ian. I wasn’t trying to shaft you out of anything but I needed a clean break.”

“So you killed us and then killed our song? That’s how it is now? And you replaced it with a fuckin cover…you said you would never put a cover on an album. Emily, you're crazy if you think I don’t know why you fuckin chose _Don’t Ask Me Why_. I'm not stupid.”

“All it is now is over.” Emily replied, not touching the stupid comment. The last thing she needed was for them to come to blows out there. “I really want you to understand that. We tried, and we failed.”

“I never failed you.”

“Really? You're being serious?” she sighed. She couldn’t do this, not right now. “I have to go. Let me walk away…don’t make a scene.”

Ian held up his hands as if he would never do a thing like that. Emily walked backwards for a moment or so before turning to walk away. Sam caught up with her and they headed back to the lounge. The show was over; it was time to leave.

“I fuckin hate that guy.” Sam mumbled.

“You must, you used the f word.”

“The way he treated you, that’s not love. I promised to never tell you how to live your life and always love Emily for Emily. But if you even think about getting back with that creep I may have to involuntarily commit you.”

“Just make sure it isn’t Bellevue.” Emily replied. “The food there sucks.”

***

Aaron Hotchner wanted to drive the five hours between Quantico, Virginia and Manhattan. It was probably going to be six plus with traffic on I-95. He could’ve flown, commercial or in an FBI issued jet. Hotch needed the time. He needed the time to think about the case and what he was getting into taking it. He bought Babylon’s self-titled debut and their new album _Ashes and Dust_ to listen to while on the road.

Another agent he worked with, John Blackwolf, was even able to get his hands on a copy of _Manhattan Streetlights_ , the EP that Emily and Penelope produced in 2001. It had seven songs, four originals and three covers. _Darkness Falls_ , a song Penelope wrote about near death experience, was first on the album. They liked it so much the band re-recorded it for their debut album. It went to #1 on the Indie charts and put Babylon on the map. That was three years ago.

Last night Hotch and Jason spent over an hour on the phone talking about Emily Prentiss. The child of privilege, she didn’t have a celebutante bone in her body. She could be petulant and overindulgent but no more so than your average 26 year old. Jason talked about how talented she was, mastering the piano and guitar. She was also a songwriter and a blossoming photographer. She wrote short stories too but most people didn’t know that.

Apparently Emily had many sides that people didn’t know about. She had a million friends but trusted few. She was close to her band mates; they were her confidantes. Sam Kassmeyer was the man who loved her. Jordan Todd was another good friend but that relationship was more sensual in nature.

Emily definitely liked sex and sexual play. She wasn’t picky about gender but picky about so many other things it was ridiculous. She’d only had one steady relationship during the six years that Jason knew her. Ian Doyle was the bastard’s name. It had been Jason who called him that…Hotch didn’t know the man.

Ian was five years older than Emily; hard rockin and hard livin. They met on the New York music scene and dated for almost two years. Ian was mean, manipulative, and violent. But he could also wear this mask of fun, sweet, and caring. Jason thought he really loved Emily but that surely didn’t mean he belonged anywhere near her. Six months after their breakup and he still hadn't gone away.

Hotch would be sure to investigate him thoroughly. Exes were suspects in stalking cases for a variety of reasons. Ian Doyle sounded more complicated than all of those reasons combined. Cases like this were rarely easy…stalkers came in all shapes and sizes. One thing Hotch knew was that Jason was right, this was escalating.

There was a possibility that Emily was in danger though no truly threatening letters had been sent. Hotch needed to find the person responsible and end this. He knew that stalkers rarely stopped when asked or even after being arrested and sent to prison. They never stopped until they got what they wanted…it was killed or be killed. A shudder ran through Hotch as he thought about Haley.

He knew that her stalker was dangerous and he knew something would happen soon. George Foyet wasn’t just a stalker, he was a serial killer. Once Haley was in his sights, it was either her or him. Hotch was sure it would've been George Foyet if only he’d known about him. George Foyet wasn’t Haley’s stalker, at least not the one Hotch had been assigned to profile and capture.

No one was sure why she was even on his radar. Hotch profiled that she was his Versace…her death would make him unforgettable. The other fifteen young women he killed in California, Nevada, and Oregon were just shits and giggles. Haley Brooks, the sought after Hollywood ingénue, was Mona Lisa. Hotch didn’t even see the bastard coming, and for his inattention he got nine stab wounds to the chest and torso.

Foyet knew what he was doing; none of them was life threatening. Haley couldn’t say the same. She was strangled and then stabbed over 20 times. It happened eight years ago but Hotch wouldn’t forget it as long as he lived. Foyet had been tried and sentenced to death.

If there was any true justice, the monsters out on the yard in San Quentin would shank him far before he exhausted his nearly limitless appeals. Blackwolf told Hotch he could do more than wish for it…a couple of people around that prison owed John favors. Hotch didn’t even want to know how but he wasn’t ready to go that far yet. He wasn’t able to say that he never would be.

He pushed those thoughts away; there were other concerns right now. He needed to go to New York and catch another stalker. The same thing that happened to Haley couldn’t happen to another bright star. As Hotch made his way onto the George Washington Bridge he prepared himself.

These cases were always dangerous. It had been his job for a decade; he was good at what he did. Hotch needed to remember that when the doubts crept in. He could do this…he had to for Emily Prentiss.

***

“I didn’t call ahead so please don’t be afraid.” Jason fished the key from his pocket and unlocked Emily’s apartment door.

She lived in a second floor walkup on 23rd Street in the chic neighborhood of Chelsea. On the inside it was spacious, and a bit messy. Hotch walked into the living room, the kitchen was to the left, as Jason went down the hall toward the bedroom. Hotch admired the maroon overstuffed couches and black wood furniture like bookshelves and the entertainment center. The lamps and light fixtures were black as well, while the walls were a soft white.

There was photography on the walls in black frames…he wondered if Emily took the pictures herself. The one above the couch was Emily with Penelope Garcia done in the style of Andy Warhol. The metal God pose they struck made him smile. Since he had a few minutes alone, Hotch decided to go through her bookshelves. You surely didn’t have to be a profiler to know you could find out a lot about a person based on what they read.

Jason pushed the bedroom door open and walked in. He wasn’t overjoyed to see a naked Ashley Seaver curled under the sheets. Emily was sound asleep beside her. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Emily, you need to wake up. C'mon, it’s Jason.”

“Whuh?” she came around, but not much.

“Emily, wake up.”

Her eyes came open slowly, not happy that she forgot to close the curtains last night. Shielding her eyes, she frowned at Jason.

“Is the building on fire?” she mumbled.

“No.” he shook his head. “I wasn’t expecting you to have company.”

“Oh, um…I swear we didn’t do anything Jason. She just slept over.”

“She's naked.” Jason reasoned.

“Only from the waist up.”

“I need you to get out of bed Emily; Aaron Hotchner is here.”

“Oh my God,” Emily threw the sheets back but made sure not to disturb Ashley. “What time is it?”

“It’s just after ten.”

“Oh, well it’s still kinda early.”

“Not really it isn’t.”

Emily stuck her tongue out as she made her way over to the dresser.

“OK, you keep him company while I pull off some semblance of decent. And I will love you forever if you put on some coffee. I need some coffee like whoa. Brushing my teeth will ruin the coffee so please inform Agent Hotchner that my breath will probably smell.”

“Will do.” Jason smiled.

“Go, go, go.” Emily rushed out of the room and into the bathroom.

Jason went to the kitchen after closing the door on young Ashley. That was the last thing Hotch needed to see.

“She’ll be right out.” he said. “I woke her.”

“Alright.” Hotch nodded. “She has second edition Austens and Orwells. She has autographed Vonneguts.”

“Emily Prentiss defies logical definition.” Jason replied. “That’s why she's amazing. OK, that’s one of the many reasons why she's amazing.”

“You can't seem to find enough wonderful things to say about her. I know you Jason, you don’t feel that way about many people.”

“I count myself so lucky to know her.”

“Is she a reader or a book collector?” Hotch asked.

“She's both. She’s obsessed with Vonnegut.”

“He's good.” Hotch said.

“No, Philip Roth is good.” Emily replied, walking into the room. “Kurt Vonnegut is the voice of a disillusioned generation. Unfortunately it’s not my generation…that’s probably _Dawson’s Creek_. I'm Emily Prentiss.”

“Aaron Hotchner.” He shook her extended hand, liking her firm handshake.

He’d seen her in photographs, including the booklets that came with her band’s CDs. In real life though there was something softer about her. She was about 5’8”, making her 6” shorter than he was. She had beautiful cheekbones and a straight Anglo-Saxon nose that stood out but did nothing to diminish her beauty.

If anything it enhanced it…Emily Prentiss didn’t look like anyone else. She wore green army colored lounge pants and a black baby doll tee showing the cover of Patti Scialfa’s album _23rd Street Lullaby_. Some of her torso was exposed so Hotch got a full view of the metal bar through her navel. Her hair, raven black like his own, was piled on her head and held there with mini-clips.

“It’s nice to meet you. I appreciate you coming.”

“Lets sit down.” Hotch nodded toward the couch.

“OK, but I should warn you…I'm almost useless in conversation without coffee.”

“I'm bringing it now.” Jason replied from the kitchen.

“Thank you Obi Wan; you're my only hope.” She said.

“Isn't it help me Obi Wan, you're my only hope?” Hotch asked.

“Yes but I like to play around with quotes. You're a _Star Wars_ fan?”

“Isn't everyone?”

“Sadly, no. I like people more if they are though.”

Emily smiled and Hotch thought she was quite beautiful. She wore no makeup but she still looked amazing.

“So you're in the FBI?” she asked.

“Yes.” Hotch nodded.

“And you specialize in stalkers?”

“Not exactly; I'm a profiler.”

“Oh my God, shut up…like Clarice Starling?” she took the big mug from Jason’s hands. Then she kissed his cheek. “You're a fuckin profiler?”

“I'm a fuckin profiler.” Hotch managed a smile. “My job is to try to determine what moves a criminal will make based on behavioral patterns or what kind of person would commit certain types of crimes. Obsession crimes are my specialty.”

“Is it weird to be surrounded by psychopaths all day?”

“We've been using the term antisocial personality disorder since the 1980s.”

“Mmm hmm,” Emily nodded, drinking her coffee. “Psychopath is sexier.”

“There's nothing sexy about it Ms. Prentiss, believe me.”

“You just see it from the law enforcement point of view so I can't blame you for thinking that.”

“How do you see it?” Hotch asked.

“I see it from the artist’s point of view. Trust me, Agent Hotchner, I don’t think psychopaths or psychopathy is sexy. Is psychopathy a word? Anyway, I just know how many books, movie tickets, and CDs it can sell. I mean, who do you think the hero was in _The Silence of the Lambs_. It surely wasn’t Clarice; it was Hannibal.”

“We live in a twisted world, Ms Prentiss.”

“Believe me, I know how twisted the world is. You can call me Emily, or baby if you really want to.”

“Em…” Jason warned.

“I'm sorry.” She laughed. “I like to play but I also know when its time to get serious.”

“Its time to get serious.” Hotch replied, holding back his smile.

“I know, Agent Hotchner. I have a sense of humor and I like using it.” Emily leaned over, grabbing the box of Ziganov cloves from the coffee table. She pulled one out and lit it. Then she asked Jason for another cup of coffee. “What's happening right now really isn’t funny but I try to live by the creed of ‘burst into laughter or burst into tears’. I've done the latter far too many times in my life, you know?”

“I understand, and I don’t mind if you call me Hotch. Can you tell me the first weird thing you remember receiving in the mail?”

“Um, well its June now so it had to be in April. It was just a box of flowers. I was excited because I can be so ridiculously girly and love to get flowers. They were black roses covered in thorns. Jason told me not to touch them so I didn’t. The card inside had Sonnet #130 written on it. It’s my favorite sonnet, well it’s tied with #116.”

“How many people know that?” Hotch asked.

“About the sonnet? I've probably mentioned it a billion different times.” Emily inhaled her clove. “I've said it in interviews and to so many friends and acquaintances. The night I met Ian he told me he heard a rumor that I would fuck him if he recited 116.”

“Is that true?” Hotch asked.

“There's a difference between reciting it and reciting it with all the feelings in the right place.” Emily said.

“Oh.”

“Anyway, the roses came first.”

“No more coffee.” Jason came back into the living room and handed her the cup.

“Did you know Hotch, that it’s the man who makes you the perfect cup of coffee who will never break your heart?”

“I’ll file that under strange facts learned on the job.” He said. “What came after the flowers?”

“A card. It was just weird, talked about watching me, practicing my moves in the mirror. It didn’t make a lot of sense; I found it freaky but not dangerous.”

“How did you even know it was the same person?” Hotch asked.

“Oh thank God for coffee.”

The conversation was interrupted by the emergence of Ashley Seaver from the bedroom. She wore a pair of cheeky panties and a matching camisole. Emily just shook her head, stifling laughter. Jason looked mortified and Hotch looked slightly perplexed.

“Um…”

“Shit, I didn’t know you had company.” Ashley colored some, making her strawberry blonde hair even more strawberry. “Hey Gideon.”

“Good morning, Ashley.”

“Get yourself some coffee, kiddo.” Emily said. “We’re just talking business. Don’t worry about it.”

“OK, I’ll be quick.”

“That’s cool.”

“Who's that?” Hotch asked.

“That’s my friend Ashley; she stays over sometimes. She feels the same way that I do about coffee. Where were we?”

“How did you know the card and the flowers were from the same person?”

“I didn’t.” Emily replied. “Since they were a few weeks apart, Jason figured that out. He said the handwriting was the same. Since he's been in the CIA I decided he would know more about handwriting analysis than me.”

“The CIA?” Hotch raised his eyebrow.

“Its OK, I know you're supposed to play dumb. Gideon is a mystery wrapped in an enigma stuffed in a fortune cookie. Penelope’s a hacker and she can't even find anything on him. I love him to death but it has to special ops, Navy SEALS, or undercover with the CIA. What else could it be?”

Hotch laughed. This time he couldn’t help it. He looked at Jason, who he’d known for almost 20 years, and he just laughed. Then he got himself together and back to the matter at hand. Emily Prentiss had received four letters and two gifts since April. Her manager thought the strangeness of them, if not the potential for danger, was escalating. Hotch happened to agree with his assessment.

“Who are the people you trust most in the world other than your parents?” Hotch asked.

“Oh God, you don’t think its one of my friends, do you?” Emily sighed. She rolled her eyes as she lit her second clove. “That’s rather cliché.”

“Sometimes real life is one big cliché.”

“What's with the chain smoking?” Jason asked. “It’s not good for your voice and you have a show tomorrow.”

“I know, I just…I'm a little jumpy. This is a head trip and it’s not the fun kind.”

“Who do you trust, Emily?”

“I trust Jason. Then there’s Penelope, Derek, Coop, and Sam…that’s about it. I have other people that I'm close to and too many people trying to get close to me but those are the people I trust with my life. Oh, and the boys don’t know about the weird stalker stuff. I told Sam but Morgan gets fiercely overprotective of the women he loves. I’d be wearing a Morgan jacket and I know that would drive me insane.”

“He's going to find out about it.” Hotch replied. “I’ll have to talk to them over the course of this investigation. What about Ashley, do you trust her?”

“She's wonderful and I adore her but…trust is on another level altogether. There's something about me that the five people I've mentioned know. If a person knows that, whether I told them drunk or sober, then I trust them. Ashley doesn’t know it. But we are good friends.” Emily said.

“I’ll be talking to the people in your life. They may find out or figure out what's going on and I know your community is small so it could get around. I need to apologize for that before hand but I can never apologize for doing my job.”

“I understand.” Emily nodded, finishing her clove. She focused on her coffee because she knew Jason would be upset if she had another cigarette.

“What about Ian Doyle?” Hotch asked.

“He's my ex-boyfriend. I'm sure you and Jason have already had a lengthy conversation about him.”

“Do you think he could do something like this to scare you?”

“Honestly…maybe. Still, having said that aloud I don’t think its Ian. OK, I don’t want to think its Ian.”

“Was he ever physically, mentally, or sexually abusive toward you when you were in a relationship?” Hotch asked.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Emily, its part of…”

“I don’t care.” She replied shaking her head. “Personal stuff with Ian stays personal. I don’t want to be uncooperative but I put my foot down on that. If he wants to tell you something when you talk to him then that’s his prerogative. It wasn’t a good relationship, Agent Hotchner. I spent the first six months in bliss and the next 16 trying to figure out how to get off the roller coaster before I heaved up my guts.” She looked at Jason. “What time is it?”

Jason checked his watch. “Its twenty after eleven.”

“I told JJ I’d be at her place by 12:30.” Emily stood from the couch. “Would you excuse me, please? I'm sure we’ll talk again but I don’t want to be late.”

“Who’s JJ?” Hotch asked. He stood as well.

“Her name is Jennifer Jareau. She's a fashion designer and she makes a lot of my clothes. I've got a pickup and a fitting at 12:30. We have a show tomorrow; I want to look my best.”

Emily turned and left the room. Jason went and opened the window so the sweet smell of cloves wouldn’t hang in the air. Emily’s cat George, a purebred Abyssinian and a gift from her mother, jumped up in the window sill. That was the first time Hotch had even seen him. Usually he could smell animals, especially in apartments. She must have been meticulous about cleaning up after him.

“I've seen women clam up like that when talking about exes.” Hotch said, his voice low.

“They weren't good together.” Jason replied. “Sid and Nancy come to mind. I think Ian is a classic borderline personality and Emily got pulled into his whirlwind. She's not perfect but I am so thankful that she is out of that relationship.”

“I’ll be talking to him first.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

***

“I need to talk to you guys about something.”

“What's up Peaches?” Penelope was tuning and tightening the strings on Duchess, her favorite bass.

Rehearsal for the show was at Morgan’s place; it always was. He had a converted warehouse condo in the Meatpacking District. Condos were in the millions these days; gentrification made the area hot. Morgan’s mother never sold the warehouse her father owned since the 1970s. Morgan had done much of the renovations himself and it was awesome. He figured he’d put it on the market sometime soon but right now he liked having a place where the band could rock out and not really have to worry about disturbing the peace.

Coop was sitting at the counter, tapping like crazy with his drumsticks. This always drove Morgan crazy but he didn’t even bother to complain. It was useless…Coop was Coop. Derek occupied his time mixing drinks. Rehearsal had been great. They played the entire Scranton set, minus the three song encore. Emily said she was in the mood for Blondie so there would be at least one Debbie Harry song on the list.

Emily sat on the couch, Spencer Reid’s bed, with Clooney practically in her lap. Clooney was Derek’s three year old Rottweiler. That was probably another reason Spencer was allowed to stay…he took care of Clooney when Morgan was out of town. Dogs and kids usually made Spencer nervous, and vice-versa, but Clooney was the coolest dog on the planet. Nothing fazed him just like his owner.

“Actually, Penelope already knows about this. There was no specific reason I didn’t tell you guys; I just didn’t want you worrying.”

“Worrying about what?” Morgan asked. He handed Emily her strawberry daiquiri and Penelope got a mango peach schnapps smoothie.

“There's a possibility I might have a stalker.”

“What?” Morgan stopped dead in the middle of the floor.

“Whoa Em, you were keeping that from us?” Coop asked. “Why would you do something like that?”

“I just…” she sighed. “I didn’t want you guys worrying or thinking you had to protect me.”

“We protect each other.” Coop replied. “We’re more than a band.”

“I know, Coop. I guess I didn’t want to think about it too much. It’s real though, and I have to take it seriously.”

“What are you going to do?” Morgan asked.

“Gideon asked a friend of his to investigate it. He’s an FBI profiler who specializes in stalkers.”

“Is this person dangerous?” Coop asked. “Are you in danger?”

“I hope that I'm not in danger. The letters are a little disturbing, so far nothing overtly threatening. I'm confident Agent Hotchner will do a good job in putting a stop to this. He’s going to have to talk to you guys while he's trying to do that.”

“I never said this before.” Penelope sat down on the couch with her best friend. “I'm going to say it now because I can't keep it in anymore. Do you think Ian could be doing this? It didn’t start until after you two broke up. He hasn’t exactly been taking it well.”

“If its Doyle I'm gonna break his kneecaps.” Morgan said. He finally made it to the kitchen, grabbing two beers for him and Coop. “I don’t need an excuse to kick his ass.”

“I don’t think its Ian.” She said.

“Well who can it be?” Coop wondered.

“I figure it’s a stranger.” Emily shrugged. “Why would someone I know do something like this to me?”

“Ian wants to scare you into getting back with him.” Morgan said.

“A gun to my head would be quicker and more effective.”

“Don’t give the asshole any ideas.” Coop said.

“It being a stranger is even scarier.” Penelope shuddered. “We’re surrounded by strangers all the time and one of them could be out to get you.”

“Agent Hotchner is going to figure this out.” Emily said, trying to convince herself and her friends. “I swear guys I'm not freaked and I don’t want to be. So let’s not talk this to death or pontificate about it until we fall over from exhaustion. I just wanted to share because I shouldn’t be keeping things from you guys. Plus, you would've been quite shocked when the FBI started questioning you about me.

“Now,” she drank her daiquiri. “I want to focus on our show tomorrow. No one is going to scare me away from pursuing my dream. People are paying to see us and we’ll give them their money’s worth. I'm torn between _One Way or Another_ and _Dreaming_ for the encore.”

They all started talking about the music but Emily knew the air in the room had changed. She felt like she was a victim in their eyes and she hated that. There was nothing to do about it…the show must go on. The show was in Scranton tomorrow night and Babylon needed to be at the top of their game.

***

“Emily!”

“Oh my God, Adam, what are you doing here?” she threw her arms around the music show host.

They were backstage at the Palladium, a small club/venue in Scranton. The place was at capacity and Babylon had an amazing seventy five minute set. They were preparing for their encore, Emily doing yoga stretches and slowly drinking from a bottle of Dasani.

“I couldn’t make it to VIP the other night so I figured why not come to Scranton. Plus Rick and Desi were driving down so I bummed a ride. I always love a good Babylon show.”

“Did we kick ass?” Coop asked.

“Don’t answer that!” Emily exclaimed. “We have three more songs to go; I don’t wanna jinx anything.”

“Do you hear that?” Adam asked. “They're screaming for you. How does that feel?”

“It feels good.” She smiled. “But it’s about more than an ego boost. I'm proud to know we gave them a show they could scream about.”

“Its time guys.” Jason ushered them back toward the stage.

“Stick around for a little while, Adam.” Emily said. “We’ll have a drink.”

“Yeah sure.” Adam watched them go back on stage and Derek started the opening chords of _Dreaming_. The crowd went insane.

000

“Are my parents settled in?” Emily asked when Jason and Sam walked out of the automatic doors of the Radisson Lackawanna Station Hotel in downtown Scranton.

A storm was moving through; wind, rain, thunder, and lightning. That didn’t stop Emily from wanting her clove. Aaron Hotchner had been keeping her company but the two didn’t talk much. He wasn’t a talker, he preferred to observe. That was fine with Emily...silence was a beautiful thing.

Not that anything about this stormy night could be called silent. Jason thought it’d be better to stay the night then to risk unknown roads in treacherous weather. So the band and their entourage got hotel rooms for the night. That included Emily’s parents, Penelope’s boyfriend, Spencer Reid, Sam Kassmeyer, and Agent Aaron Hotchner.

“They're fine.” Sam replied. “Your dad loved the show tonight.”

“He seemed…subdued.” Emily replied.

“He's proud of you.”

“Don’t put words in his mouth, Sam.”

“I'm not…” Sam sighed. “Are you going to introduce me to your new friend?”

“Sam Kassmeyer, this is FBI Agent Aaron Hotchner.” Emily said.

“Special Agent Aaron Hotchner.” Hotch shook his head.

“Oh, you're Gideon’s friend?”

“Yes.” Hotch nodded.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too Sam.”

“You can catch some winks now, Hotch.” Emily said. “My knight in shining armor will take it from here.”

“She's tipsy.” Jason replied.

“I can handle it.” Sam said. He’d known Emily for a decade and had seen every side of her.

“Alright.” Jason nodded, knowing he could. “We’ll go and get some sleep. Hotch, I hope you don’t mind that we’re bunkmates tonight.”

“That’s fine with me.” Hotch smiled a little. “It'll be like old times.”

“Old times?” Emily asked. “Like when you guys were hunting Noriega or overthrowing military coups in newly independent Eastern bloc countries?”

“What is she talking about?” Hotch and Sam asked in unison.

“I repeat…” Jason said. “She's tipsy.” He went and put his hands on Emily’s shoulders, kissing her forehead. “You were amazing tonight. No matter what else you know, you better know that.”

“I do.” she nodded. “Thank you Jason.”

“You know I love you.”

“I love you too. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Hotch and Jason went inside the hotel. Emily leaned against the wall, pulling another clove from the sterling silver cigarette case in her tiny purse. Sam pulled a lighter from the back pocket of his jeans.

“You don’t smoke.” Emily mumbled, holding up her hand to shield the fire from wind.

“No, but you do.”

“Samuel Mason Kassmeyer.” She closed her eyes, smiled, and inhaled deeply.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

“You gonna stay with me tonight?”

“It was either that or your parents. The best way to make a 32 year old man instantly feel 14 again…bunk with the parents.”

“I was gonna say 12 but that’s just me. Did you enjoy the show tonight? I sang a song for you.”

“Which one?” Sam asked.

“Guess.” Emily grinned.

“I don't know, um... _Blue Sunshine_?”

“That’s already your song.” She gave him a friendly punch. “It was _Criminal_ during the encore.”

“Well I liked it. I liked the entire show.”

“I like you, Sam Kassmeyer.”

Emily slipped her arms around his neck. Sam smiled at her but she could tell he was a little uncomfortable.

“You should finish that clove so we can get some sleep. It’s been a long night.”

“Why don’t you just kiss me?” Emily asked.

“Because you're not over him.” Sam replied.

“Oh my God, are you serious?” Emily dropped her arms and went back to her clove. “I don’t even believe you just said that.”

“Well I surely didn’t say it to hurt you, Emily. You know that I never, ever would.”

“It’s not true, you know. While I may not be over it, it really kicks my ass some days, I am so over him. I was over him long before we ended it. Please don’t make this about Ian. I'm tired of everything being about him.” she glanced at Sam out of the corner of her eye. “I would never hurt you either Sam…cross my heart and hope to die.”

“C'mere.” Sam pulled her into his arms and held her tight. Emily dropped the clove and just held on. She was so…Sam didn’t know what she was but he knew he was crazy about her. He tilted her chin so she was looking at him before kissing her passionately.

Emily tightened her hold on him. Goddamn, he was such an amazing kisser. It surprised her while doing nothing of the sort. There had to be a reason that something always kept her from Sam. Nothing was keeping her from him right now.

“We should get you inside and warm you up.” He whispered, his lips still touching hers. “You're trembling.”

“It has nothing to do with the temperature.” She replied.

“We’ll warm you up anyway.”

Emily smiled, caressing his face and giving him another kiss. They walked into the hotel with their arms around each other.

***

Emily had never seen Sam naked and vice-versa. They'd hooked up, or whatever people called it these days, a few times in the decade they had known each other. The one that stood out the most in her mind, probably because it was the first time, was the night of her senior prom. Emily wasn’t even interested in going but Penelope was bitten by the prom bug and it suddenly became the be all, end all.

She was so excited, pressing her best friend to go with it. While Emily really could care less, she took Penelope’s advice. She asked Sam to go with her so she wouldn’t die of boredom. He said yes…he usually always said yes.

They really had a great night; her favorite part was hooking up with him in the back of the limo. Emily was fully prepared to recreate one of her favorite scenes from the Kevin Costner film, No Way Out. She’d never been shy about sex, desire, or anything in between. It was Sam who held off. He cared about her and didn’t think a limo was the best place for their first time. Ten years and a few hookups later, it looked like the Radisson Lackawanna Station Hotel in Scranton was the best place.

He sighed as his body moved against hers under the sheets. Sam wanted to stop, hold back like the few times they'd been here before. No, they'd never quite been here. They were naked, they were kissing, and the soft sighs from Emily’s lips almost drove him crazy with desire. Sam Kassmeyer never thought of himself as a transparent guy but he’d been in love with Emily Prentiss almost from the day they met.

She was so full of life, love, beauty, and strength. He knew her inside and out; the darkness and light. She never feared giving pieces of herself to him and Sam gave his love and support in return. Sometimes he had to watch her do things he wanted nothing to do with, like Ian Doyle. If it was one thing a decade taught him it was that nothing would stop Emily from being Emily.

“Mmm,” she arched her back when he cupped and squeezed her breast. “Sam…”

“How come I never knew your nipple was pierced?” he asked, moving down to capture the silver hoop, and the nipple, between his eager lips.

“Oh God, I could’ve sworn that I told you.”

“Well seeing is believing.” Sam mumbled.

“I thought I showed you too.”

Sam was fascinated with her breasts, the same as he was when she was wearing clothes. He loved her entire body though he usually did his best not to stare. She was so damn beautiful it nearly paralyzed him with awe. Her skin was soft and porcelain, her breasts pert, and her legs long.

Emily tried to wrap those legs around him; draw him into her. Sam shook his head…he wanted to take his time and love every inch of her. If he could just stop letting her breasts distract him. When Emily ran her fingers through his hair Sam felt as if he’d be shot with volts of electricity. That got him moving.

She was aching, Emily Prentiss was actually aching. She couldn’t even remember the last time something like that happened. It never happened with Ian. He didn’t know how to touch or romance her. In the beginning, it had been nice, sweet, and great even at times, but it got really old really fast.

There were only so many times a girl could be fucked before she stopped bothering to participate. Emily wasn’t going to miss out on participating with Sam. She wanted to stroke his skin, hear him moan, and feel his body close to hers. She wanted it on her, in her; all around her.

“Sam! Oh Sam, Sam, Sam!”

Well he wasn’t going to need a map to find her clit, that’s for sure. He knew exactly where it was and what to do with it. His lips, tongue, teeth, and fingers teased her until all Emily could do was whimper, writhe, and grip the sheets. She gripped them so tight she was sure she’d rip right through them. Her stomach tightened, she felt lightheaded, and her toes curled as her climax roared through her. Emily shook, crying out Sam’s name as thunder crashed overhead.

“Oh sweet lord.” She whispered, breathless.

Sam came from under the covers smiling. Emily pulled him to her, kissing him passionately. The taste of her all over his lips made her so hot. They rolled on the mattress and Emily straddled him. It was time, it was past time; she was ready. Sam was hard and he groaned when she stroked him.

“Damn, I just wanna wrap my lips around it.” Emily whispered in his ear.

“Oh my God.” Sam quivered. “Emily…”

“Shh,” she put her finger on his lips. “You were so generous and I plan to be the same. I'm so excited to make you feel like I feel.”

There was no way for Sam to stop the blissful grin on his face as Emily slowly slid onto his erection. He filled her, thrusting up to the hilt. She shivered as she began to ride slow. She knew how to fuck a man; Emily had probably known that longer than a girl should. She knew how to go slow, speed up, tease, and make him crazy.

“Emily! Oh Emily, Emily, goddamn.”

“I know.” She shifted position to give her clit more stimulation. “Why did we wait so long?”

Sam was losing his ability to speak and control his body. He was so close to detonation and had no idea how he didn’t just let go while watching Emily touch herself. His hands reached to stroke her breasts; soon she was falling again. It was so awesome for Sam to watch her do that. He knew he was the one who made her feel that good. Her body draped over his and he held her close while rolling on the mattress one more time.

“You feel so good; I can't take it.” Sam thrust deep.

“Come in me, Sam.” Emily caressed his face. “Mmm, now, I want you to do it now…come in me.”

Even without her command, Sam was almost there. Her words only excited him more and soon he was coming and coming and coming. He felt like he was dying as every ounce of strength left his body. Her name came from his diaphragm in a strangled moan of desire.

He thought it might be his last. It made Emily hold him closer; spread her thighs further. She wanted to feel exactly what he did and as usual Sam was so generous with himself. He was one of the most amazing and generous people she knew.

“I love you so much.” Sam whispered, kissing the crook of her neck.

It was over but the aftershocks still rumbled through the both of them. Sam was on top of her, still deep inside of her. Emily didn't seem to be ready to let go.

“I love you too, Sam.”

“I know.”

He eventually moved over to the mattress and held her in his arms. There was so much he wanted to say but Sam was tongue tied. He didn’t want to make too much of the moment, or make too light of it. Emily was casual but he knew she meant it when she said she loved him.

He would try to go with whatever flow she was. He loved Emily just as she was and had no desire to change her. At the same time he had been thinking for some time that he might just need to let go. Sometimes beautiful moments like this marked the beginning of a relationship and sometimes they marked the end.

***

It was 2:30 on a Monday afternoon but Hotch wasn’t surprised to find Ian where he did. He was holding up a stool in Paddy’s Pub, a dark and dusty place in Hell’s Kitchen. Some people wanted to call the area Clinton now, and it had gentrified almost to the point of whitewashing. But if you looked close enough, some of the old element was still there. That old element was predominately Irish and fiercely proud. It would probably take an earthquake to move them from what they considered home since coming over on ships during the Great Potato Famine in 1845 all the way up to the end of WWII a century later.

Paddy’s smelled of beer and bitterness though not everyone in there had a grudge against the world. Hotch walked in, checked all around him, but the place was practically empty. He’s spent much of Sunday when they returned from Scranton in front of his laptop. He was researching people in Emily Prentiss’s inner circle. Some had some interesting footnotes in their pasts but most weren't dangerous. Ian Doyle was another story.

He was born and raised in Belfast, the son of reputed IRA terrorist and a fledgling singer. When Ian was seven, his father Simon stabbed his mother eight times before putting a gun in his mouth. There were conflicting reports as to whether Ian actually witnessed it or just heard the screaming and gunshot from his bedroom. Bridget Doyle didn’t die from her horrific injuries. She spent the rest of her life, a short decade, in pain and became addicted to painkillers and alcohol.

She wasn’t in the mood to care for her young son anymore, not that she’d been so stellar before the stabbing. Eight year old Ian was shipped off to New York to live with her brother Patrick and his wife Kathryn. Patrick O’Hara owned and operated Paddy’s Pub though he was a strict teetotaler and a faithful man. He was in a content marriage that produced six children, including Sean. Ian did his best to fit in but never quite made it.

He had an extensive juvenile record, everything from arson to assault. As an adult there were DUIs, drunken disorderly, and a few simple assaults from bar fights. There were also a string of domestic disturbance calls. Nine in all over the course of the 22 months he and Emily Prentiss were together. And those were just the calls that were reported.

“Ian Doyle?” he asked, knowing who he was as soon as he saw him.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ian didn’t look up from his beer or the notebook his was scribbling in. He was writing; Ian didn’t like to be disturbed when he was writing.

“FBI Special Agent Aaron Hotchner and I need to ask you a few questions.”

That got his attention. He actually swiveled around on the stool.

“Nice suit.” He smirked.

“I didn’t come here for fashion tips.” Hotch replied.

“What does the FBI want with me? Don’t you have some terrorists to catch or something? Oh I forgot; you guys don’t catch any of them.”

“I'm here to discuss Emily Prentiss. This would go a lot smoother if you kept the smartass comments to a minimum.”

“Emily?” Ian’s defenses went up as he shot up from the barstool. “What the fuck is this? Show me some ID now.”

Hotch had no problem doing that. He held it up and Ian scrutinized it. When he shrugged Hotch figured he was done so he slipped it back inside his jacket pocket.

“I'm here to discuss Emily Prentiss.” Hotch repeated. “We can either do it here or at the police station. Have a seat please.”

“You can ask whatever you want to ask. But I haven’t seen her in months so if she’s talking about me its all lies. That girl spins lies like a spider spins webs.”

Hotch knew Ian was lying right now. Jason already told him that Doyle showed up at the VIP show last week even though his band wasn’t playing.

“Have a seat.” Hotch said through clenched teeth.

Ian sighed, sitting back down. He reached back for his beer.

“How long were you in a relationship with Emily Prentiss?” he asked.

“Two years or so.”

“I notice you racked up an impressive tally of domestic disturbance calls in that amount of time.”

“I never put my hands on her.” Ian replied. “I don't know why the police showed up but she was the crazy one not me. If she ever got hurt it was because I was trying to defend myself. Look, couples fight OK. Why do you think we broke up?”

“I have a feeling that your sunny disposition had nothing to do with it.” Hotch said. “So you're saying you never put your hands on Emily Prentiss?”

“That’s right.” Ian nodded. “What is this? The FBI doesn’t come out for domestic disturbance calls from nine months ago. I'm not answering another damn question…put me under arrest if it pops your cock. I don’t give a damn who you are; you have no right to dig into my personal affairs. Fuck off.” he swiveled back around on the barstool.

Hotch noticed his brogue made him almost impossible to understand when he was angry. He got the gist of it though; fuck off was universal.

“Do these look familiar to you, Ian?” Hotch dropped the picture of the black roses and the raven haired Barbie doll wrapped in duct tape on the bar.

“No, should they?” he casually pushed them away with barely a glance.

“Someone is sending your ex threatening messages and I'm wondering what you might know about it.”

“That’s fuckin great.” He laughed but it was completely mirthless. “She actually told you that I was stalking her? She called the FB fuckin I and accused me of stalking her. I bet she sent the shit to herself. Emily Prentiss is almost famous now…nothing to take her over like news of a stalker hitting Page 6.”

“Emily Prentiss would have to give a damn about you to accuse you of anything.” Hotch replied. “I assure you, in case you were confused, that she does not. Someone wants to hurt her and no matter how much you try to deny it, you're still a little sore about being pushed aside.”

“I didn’t send her anything. Fuck her and fuck you too. She wanted me gone; I'm gone. She's on her own now. I hope the princess doesn’t find herself on the bad side of something she can't handle. Contrary to her own press, she's not invincible.”

“Is that a threat?” Hotch asked.

“That’s just the truth, Mr. FBI.” Ian finished his beer, pointing at the empty glass for a refill. “This can be a very tough town for rich girls who enjoy slumming it. That’s all I'm saying.”

Hotch knew that wasn’t all he was saying. Doyle was dangerous and if pushed he probably had no problem showing people how much. He was sure this wouldn’t be the last confrontation the two men had. Hotch didn’t bother to threaten him, tell him not to leave town, or even say goodbye before walking out of Paddy’s.

There was no point in threatening Ian Doyle…he feared nothing. He would just keep an eye on him over the next week or so. With this tour in the works and dates planned, Emily Prentiss would be out in the open. If someone wanted to hurt her there would be more than enough opportunity.

***

Late Tuesday morning Emily met Coop at the Laundromat. They both needed to do laundry something fierce. It sucked having to do it from the road so Emily wanted to make sure that she left home with as many clean clothes as possible. The majority of her stage and party ensembles were designed and created by Jennifer Jareau. She’d been running a tiny boutique in the Village since 2001; Emily loved her looks. They formed a bond and now JJ made Emily’s clothes separate from her other boutique items.

The rest of Emily’s clothes, which consisted of everything from jeans and tee shirts to the dressier clothes she wore for dinner at her parents’ place, took up two large washers. She was sitting on top of one of them now, rocking out to the Coal Miner’s Daughter CD in her Discman. Damn she loved Megan’s voice; it was perfect for rockabilly. But they were more than some wannabe alt-country band…they had range. Emily was actually a little envious of Megan’s voice.

Coop was nearby, sitting at a table working on set lists, hotel plans, meals, and any other thing a traveling band would need. They would be up and down the east coast, from Providence to Nashville. Then they had some dates in Indiana, Illinois, and Ohio. It was a big deal for them and even though it was only eight weeks they would be doing two and sometimes three shows a week. Touring was exhausting but the benefits outweighed that.

Ashes and Dust was steady on the indie charts and the first single, The End, was making a decent showing for digital downloads. There were more people at more shows, more requests for photo shoots and interviews, and Emily was in high demand as well. Jason was a busy man and he loved it. They all felt it; it was now or never for Babylon to make that leap. No one wanted to play in a bar band for the rest of their lives.

He looked over at Emily, rocking out on the washer, and smiled. He was worried about her. Everyone was glad that Ian Doyle was in the rearview mirror even if he didn’t quite understand that he was old news. And despite Coop’s crush on her for the past six years, he was glad to see Sam Kassmeyer around more. Sam was a stabilizing force and everyone needed someone like that in their life.

Now there was someone trying to get close that didn’t need to be. Famous people, almost famous, used to be famous, and doing anything to be famous…they all had to deal with the nut jobs. He saw it on TV and read about it in magazines. Coop never thought they would have to confront it head on. Emily was keeping quiet about it other than what she told them the night before the Scranton show.

He went to Jason about his concerns. The older man told him that the FBI was investigating and they would do everything in their power to keep Emily safe. Coop should focus on the music and be a good friend to her. There were other people handling the scary stuff. Coop didn’t like feeling helpless but knew Emily wouldn’t let him and Morgan ‘overprotect’ her. He had to do something though…he did not like this situation.

Her cell phone rang and interrupted the lip synching concert Emily was enjoying. She reached into the pocket of her Levis and looked at the display on her Nokia. Seeing it was Adam Jackson, Emily picked up.

“Hey Adam.” She pulled off her earphones.

“This isn’t a bad time, is it?” he asked.

“Nope, I'm rockin out in the Laundromat. What's up?”

“Are you guys gonna have some time tonight or tomorrow? I won't take up too much of your time, I promise, but I have an idea and I think you might like it.”

“Sure, we can do lunch tomorrow…I can gather the troops. Do you want to meet up at Artie’s around two?”

“Yeah, if that’s good for you. Thanks for taking the time out cuz I know tour preparation can be insane.”

“Yeah a little bit, though Jason is doing most of the hard work.” Emily laughed. She hopped off the washer when it stopped and pulled a cart over to hold her wet clothes. “I don’t mind making the time Adam. You’ve always been good to this band and we never intend to forget where we came from.”

“Cool. Alright, I’ll see you around two then.”

“You sure will. Bye.”

Emily put the phone back in her pocket and called to Coop.

“I am not your mama, Eric, I refuse to touch your undies.”

“I’d pay to touch yours.” He replied, getting up.

“You are so…”

“Yeah I know.” Coop grinned. “That’s what all the gorgeous ladies say. Who was that on the phone?”

“Adam Jackson. He wants to have lunch with us tomorrow to run an idea.”

“What kind of idea?”

“I don't know.” Emily shrugged. She pushed her clothes toward one of the extra large dryers. She would only need one despite using three washers.

“You don’t know but you said yes.”

“Well he’s not gonna hold us hostage and declare a helicopter to Bogota and five hookers. Adam is good people, has always had our backs and given us love on his show. I'm interested to see what he’s thinking about.”

“Yeah, OK.” Coop nodded.

“What?”

“Nothing. You're right; Adam is a good guy and a Mets fan. We got a lot of exposure because of The Turn Table.”

“That’s what I said.” Emily playfully punched his arm.

“Well it bears repeating. Let’s dry these clothes and get the hell out of here. I can't wait to be famous. First thing I'm gonna buy is a washer and dryer; top of the line. What about you, Em? What will you buy?”

“Mmm…I'm going on vacation. We've been busting our asses. I'm sure when we make it the first thing I'm gonna want is a rest.”

***

Hotch told Sam that he would meet him at Kassmeyer’s, the restaurant that his grandfather Lucas opened in 1946. He’d come home from the war, gotten married, and was about to start a family. The beer garten, as it was known in those days, was a staple in the German area of Prospect Heights in Brooklyn, New York. The neighborhood had changed in 60 years though a lot of ethnic pride still ran through its streets. Kassmeyer’s was still on the corner of Vanderbilt Avenue. Couples, friends, and families didn't let a little rain stop them from enjoying a hearty meal out.

Hotch sat down at the bar, checked his watch, and ordered a Coke. It was just after six; he was late. He hated being late, preferred being early, but he wasn’t a New York native. It didn’t matter that he went to school here almost 25 years ago when he attended Fordham, things had changed.

Jason was busy getting the band ready for the Trenton and Philly shows so Hotch told him he could venture to Brooklyn on his own. He was a decorated FBI agent…he would find his way. It took longer than Hotch had hoped. It seemed as if Sam wasn’t there either so that was good at least.

“Excuse me, are you Agent Hotchner?” a pretty young waitress approached him.

“Yes.” Hotch nodded.

“Sam told me to apologize to you, he's running a little behind. He should be here in about 15 minutes. Anything you need, sir, is on the house.”

“Thank you…”

“Bethany.” She smiled and it made her even more pretty.

“Thank you Bethany. I’ll just have my Coke and wait.”

“Sure thing.”

As she walked away, Hotch soaked up the atmosphere around him. Couples were cuddling, some kids were making a little too much noise, and some tables were collecting many beer bottles. There was a TV on over the bar, which was separated from the family sitting area by wood partitions with smoked glass. The Mets were playing the Braves. The sound was low but the sentiment was the same…Hotch was in Mets territory.

A group of 20something girls walked in and went down to the other end of the semi-circular bar. He watched them for a while thinking of Emily and her friends. Surely she had plans tonight. She was probably dressing up right now, planning to take some pub or bar by storm. He thought of what Ian Doyle said ‘rich girls who enjoyed slumming it’.

Emily Prentiss wasn’t from the wrong side of the tracks; that was true. But Hotch didn’t detect anything false about her and it was his job to detect false people. She had money but never lied and said she didn’t. There was nothing wrong with living like a young, bohemian musician if that was in your heart. Someone wanted to scare her at best, truly harm her at worse. Could it be someone who felt feelings similar to Ian Doyle?

“Agent Hotchner, I am so sorry.” Sam approached him with his hand extended. Hotch shook it. “There was a major crisis at work ten minutes before I was due to step out the door. I spent the next 40 minutes on the phone with Peggy from Mayor Bloomberg’s office. Strong words were exchanged during our conversation. But the Sunset Park Little Swimmers will be up and running after the July 4th holiday.

“We lost our pool at the last minute and I couldn’t disappoint 40 boys and girls from 4 to 8 who want to learn to swim this summer. The next Olympic gold medalist could be in that group.” Sam sighed as he sat down. “It was a very long day. Do you mind if I have a beer?”

“Of course not.” Hotch shook his head. “What do you do for a living Sam?”

“I'm the Juvenile Advancement Coordinator for the Family Action Network. We work to insure poor and working class families, children in particular, have access to programs that keep them thriving. About 40% of our funding comes from the city and state of New York. The rest is from private organizations, philanthropists, and charity drives. I've been there for just over three years.”

“That sounds adventurous.”

“Its great most days and the seventh gate of hell on some others.” Sam replied. He had a short conversation with the bartender, an older man named Vinnie, before ordering a Samuel Adams.

“I hope you don’t mind that I may have to ask you some personal questions about your relationship with Emily.” Hotch said.

“If it helps to track down the person doing this to her I’ll answer anything you want me to, Agent Hotchner.”

“You can call me Hotch.”

“Alright,” Sam nodded. “Do you mind if we have the question and answer session over dinner though? I'm starving.”

000

“Emily and I actually met a decade ago this month.” Sam said over his Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, and cauliflower. He had one beer but was now drinking lemonade.

“How did you two meet?” Hotch asked. “Prospect Heights seems a world away from the Upper West Side where she grew up.”

“Oh it is, Agent Hotchner. I got a coveted internship with her father’s office when he was US Ambassador to the UN. It was a big deal. I was one of hundreds of college students vying for five spots. And Ambassador Prentiss was picking the students himself. Let me just tell you all of Brooklyn seemed to celebrate the day I got in. I thought my dad was going to lose it.”

“That sounds nice. So you met Emily through her father?”

“Yes.” Sam nodded. “It was strange. He asked me to take her out after I’d been with him about a month. He thought she needed someone calm, smart, and normal like me. He was tired of the parade of piercings, motorcycles, and misdemeanor records trampling through his house. He thought Emily was purposely trying to shake him up. So he set us up. It was destined to fail, but somehow it didn’t.”

“So you two were romantically involved?” Hotch asked.

“I don’t know about that but we dated all summer. She might have been dating other guys too; monogamy wasn’t Emily’s thing. But her father seemed happy with the development.”

“Were you two ever sexually involved?”

Sam stopped eating and looked at Hotch. He knew the man was doing his job but he didn’t see what that had to do with anything. Sam had promised to be cooperative.

“I don’t feel comfortable answering that.” he replied. “Its just too personal and I don’t think it’s relevant. I want to be cooperative but…”

“No, Sam, I understand. I'm sorry to seem as if I'm invading your privacy. May I be frank?”

“Absolutely.”

Hotch was about to say something when Sam’s phone beeped on his hip. The younger man held up his finger and went to look at it. He opened the text message.

‘ _Where are you? I haven’t heard from you in days and I'm starting to worry about you. I've texted twice, are you avoiding me? I miss you_.’—Emily

Sam began to type on the number keys on his phone.

‘ _I'm at my dad’s, eating dinner. I'm not avoiding you, what do you mean? I told you when I dropped you off that this week would be insane. Work is kicking my ass_.’—Sam

‘ _Are you sure, Sam? I don’t want anything weird to happen between us. Is this because of what happened in Scranton? I love you, you know that, right_?’—Emily

‘ _Of course I know. Em, I can't talk right now_.’—Sam

‘ _Why not_?’—Emily

‘ _I'm being interrogated by the FBI_.’—Sam

‘ _What? Agent Hotchner is with you_?’—Emily

‘ _Yes, and I promise I’ll call you later. I’m not avoiding you, I love you too, and we’ll talk soon_.’—Sam

‘ _OK, OK, I’ll let you go. Am I being ridiculous? You can always tell me if I'm being ridiculous_.’—Emily

‘ _We’ll talk later, and you're not being ridiculous_.’—Sam

He put the phone back on his hip, looking back at Hotch.

“I'm sorry.”

“Work?” Hotch asked.

“Actually, it was Emily. We haven’t talked since I dropped her off on Sunday and she’s worried about me. I told her I was fine and we’d talk later.”

“Has there ever been a time in the past decade where you two weren't close?”

“Not really. Well, while she was with Ian I didn’t see her as much. He didn’t like me so he made it difficult.”

“How did you feel about him?” Hotch asked.

“How do you think?” Sam sipped his lemonade. “He was mean, he drank too much, and he could get violent. I noticed little things but Emily brushed them off. I didn’t want to interfere; I didn’t want to lose her. I should've done more but I hardly knew what to do. She was losing herself; Ian always had to come first. Their breakup was in her best interest.”

“Do you know what the final straw was?”

“No, and she hasn’t talked to me about it. Whatever it was it had to be bad because she’d put up with a hell of a lot. Her friends had given her ultimatums and she still wouldn’t let go. Those last nine months were hard; a lot of breaking up and making up. It was a vicious cycle and a lot of people who loved her got caught up in the whirlwind.”

“Do you think he's capable of stalking her?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “I fear that he's capable of killing her.”

“Jason thinks he might have borderline personality disorder and that he's quite dangerous. What do you think about that, Sam?”

“I can't pretend to be an expert on someone’s mental health, Agent Hotchner. I honestly don’t even know Ian Doyle well. Every experience I've had with him has been a bad one but that doesn’t mean I have the right to be so flippant about what's going on in his mind.”

“I've done my research Sam. I know that you got a four year full academic scholarship to Boston University. You had a double major in Sociology and Philosophy/Psychology. You then went on to get a Masters in Social and Behavioral Science. You could be doing what I'm doing. I believe you're more capable than most of answering the question.”

“I don’t think Ian is mentally ill, no. He’s just angry. Maybe he wouldn’t be if he didn’t drink so much. He definitely needs some therapy, extensive therapy, but he's over 30 so it may not help him much now.

“His culture dictates that he suck up it; and he has. With what he's been through it’s a wonder he’s functioning. But he takes it out on people who care about him, or try to. And that’s my 2 cent psych evaluation. I don’t want to answer anymore of those questions.”

“What about other friends? Acquaintances maybe?” Hotch asked. “Is there someone who makes you feel uncomfortable with the attention they give or try to give to Emily? Is there a fan you might not know by name but see at every show? Has anything strange happened recently that she tried to brush off or won't fully explain?”

“No,” Sam shook his head. “I can't think of anything. Emily was happier after she finally ended it with Ian. The band was putting the finishing touches on the second album, doing shows; nothing was unusual. Then suddenly those roses showed up and things got weird.

“They didn’t get increasingly weird, it was just random. We were always surprised when something else showed up. There's still this part of me that doesn’t want to believe that someone might be out there trying to hurt her. It’s too much sometimes.”

“You love her?” Hotch asked.

“Yes, but you can add me to a long list.” Sam replied.

“She's not texting a long list of people on Wednesday evening checking in to make sure they’re OK.”

Sam shook his head but he didn’t want to discuss it. Aaron Hotchner was there to protect Emily, to find the person intent on scaring or hurting her. For that Sam Kassmeyer was on his side 100%. That didn’t mean he needed to be going down this path again.

He thought, before Saturday, that he might be on the other side of his ‘Emily’ thing. He would always love her. That didn’t mean he wanted to spend the rest of his life in love with her while she didn’t feel anything remotely like that. It honestly wasn’t fair to either of them and they knew it. They would never say it but they knew it.

“You were going to say something earlier.” Sam said. “You asked me if you could be frank and then my phone went off. What were you going to say?”

“I think Emily knows the person stalking her.” Hotch said. “There's a tone to the letters…this person is close. But that doesn’t mean its someone in her inner circle; in fact I believe they could be struggling to get even closer. Do you know anyone like that?”

“No.” Sam replied. “I'm not very involved in the day to day of her rock life. Work keeps me busy and with Emily comes some chaos that I can't quite handle sometimes. So I've been pulling back. I'm sorry, I wish I could be more helpful.”

“Sam, I appreciate everything you told me. There’s more people to question, more to investigate; this case will take time but I'm very thorough in what I do.”

“You'll be with her right, during the tour?”

“Yes.” Hotch nodded. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep her safe. So will Jason, Derek, and Eric. We’re not going to let this person live out their fantasy at Emily’s expense.”

***

“Do you love me?” Penelope asked, pouring herself a much needed glass of wine as Emily cooked an early dinner.

“What? Of course I love you. You wanna know how much I love you? I let you take me camping…in the woods, with tents and shit.”

“Oh my God, that was such fun.” Penelope smiled.

“That’s interesting because in some countries it would be known as torture. I don’t like bugs, trees, animals, or the outdoors, yet there I was. OK, the part where we made a fire, smoked up, and sang songs was fun. But that weed made me paranoid, which didn’t make the bugs and animal thing any better.”

“You were paranoid as shit.” Penelope giggled.

“I don’t recall it being that funny.”

“On the contrary, Peaches; it was hysterical. I need you to do me a favor, and remember that you love me.”

“What's up?”

“Get me out of dinner with the units.”

“Oh hell no.” Emily shook her head. “Erin needs no more reason to hate my guts. I can't believe she's still friends with my stepmother. You better go and enjoy every damn minute of it. We’re leaving town tomorrow and will be on the road for a while. Give the units a proper goodbye. And don’t get me in anymore trouble with them.”

Emily knew Penelope loved her units; it was just a unique situation. She was an orphan…her parents died when she was 11 years old. Her mother’s will stated that if anything ever happened to her or Penelope’s stepfather that the little girl was to be raised by her mother’s first cousin, Erin Strauss. The problem was Erin hadn't seen Amanda Garcia since she was 11 and Erin was 13. There was a huge shock when an 11 year old little bohemian showed up at the door of a swank Upper West Side condo with paperwork.

Erin and her husband, David Rossi, took Penelope in. It wasn’t always easy; they were vastly different. Things changed when 13 year old Penelope met 14 year old Emily. They both seemed to be trapped in a world they were less than comfortable in. So together they forged a deep friendship and kept each other from going off the deep end. Almost 13 years later the relationship was still going strong.

“Dave did say he was making manicotti.” Penelope said. “I love manicotti.”

“There you go.” Emily smiled. “He's making his favorite girl’s favorite meal.”

“Erin is his favorite girl; I'm his kitten. 25 going on 26 and I’m still kitten.”

“I know that he’s not your dad but dads never changed. You'll be married with kids and he’ll still call you that.”

“Please don’t say that.” Penelope rolled her eyes. “Well, I better get going…I gotta get to the Upper West Side.”

“Before you go, what did you think about Adam’s idea yesterday? I've been thinking about it.”

“I think it’s awesome. The next six months is going to be a big deal for us. We’re either gonna make it or we’re not and dammit we’re gonna make it. Adam is catching us on the ground floor and I think this can be a good thing for us.

“It’s also gonna be good for him. I'm on board; the boys are on board. All we have to do is talk about it with Jason and I can't see why he would be against it. Its gonna be awesome.”

Adam came to the band with an idea to make a documentary about them. He wanted to follow them on some of their tour dates, talk to them, and get to know them as more than just musicians. He thought the fans would love it. He thought it would show how much Babylon deserved to make it. It wasn’t going to hurt his career as a wannabe filmmaker either.

This was basically a win-win situation for all parties involved. At least that’s what was discussed at lunch yesterday. Emily and her band mates loved the idea but they wanted to talk to their manager about it before they made a major decision. They had given her permission to be the spokesperson for the band since she and Jason were so close. Emily planned on calling him tonight and just wanted to go over it one more time with Penelope before she did.

“I have to get out of here.” Penelope kissed her cheek. “I’ll be calling Erin on the way to the train to let her know I’ll be a little late. If she asks I won't tell her that I was with you.”

“I appreciate it.” Emily replied. It was already her fault Penelope was doing this crazy music thing instead of going to an Ivy League school like the genius she was.

“See ya later, Peaches.”

Penelope left and Emily put her dinner on a plate. She was uncorking a bottle of Chateau Ste. Michelle when there was a loud bang on her door. It scared her so much that she dropped the bottle on the floor. As it shattered into pieces a voice boomed through the door.

“Emily, let me in; I know you're in there!” Ian screamed. “Let me the fuck in, I need to talk to you! Let me in or I'm kicking down the damn door! I will kick it in, I swear to God!”

George, Emily’s cat, scampered down from the counter and hid under the couch. He didn’t like loud noises and he didn’t like Ian. Emily rushed to the door and put on her two heavy slide bolts, one on the top and one on the bottom. She rarely used them but needed them right now. She knew him; he could take the thing clean off the hinges.

“Ian, go away, you're drunk.” She said. “I'm not going to talk to you when you're like this.”

“Let me in! You got the fuckin FBI coming and asking me a bunch of questions about us. What the fuck did you tell them? Let me in!”

“Why would I do that when you sound like a raving lunatic? Go away or I'm calling the police!”

He kept banging as Emily rushed to her cell phone. She didn’t call 911, not yet; first she called Jason.

“Emily?”

“Jason, Ian’s banging on my door. Oh my God, he's drunk as shit and this is not going to end well.”

“Emily! Emily, you open the goddamn door right now!”

“I can hear him.” Jason said. “I'm on my way. Don’t you go near that door…I'm on my way.”

“OK.” She hung up the phone with him and called 911.

“Emily!”

“Go away! I'm not letting you in. Dammit Ian, why do you always do this? Why can't you just let go?”

“All I did was love you! I loved you and you just broke my heart. Now you're telling people that I'm stalking you. You’ve got the FBI questioning me, threatening me. You are such a selfish bitch!”

She stopped answering him. She told the police where she was and that her ex was banging on the door and threatening to kick it in. She stated that if he did get in she would do everything she had to defending herself. She wasn’t going to die tonight or end up in the hospital either. They needed to hurry, for the sake of everyone involved.

000

When the cab pulled up in front of Emily’s apartment there were also two cop cars out there. Jason rushed out of the cab, leaving Hotch to pay the bill. He gave the driver $20 and then rushed out too. They were at the top of the steps when the police came through the door with a handcuffed Ian Doyle. He was cursing and spitting, still yelling at the top of his lungs that Emily was a selfish bitch.

“What did you do, you idiot?” Jason asked, grabbing his shirt. Hotch pulled his friend off of him.

“Fuck you Gideon! You think I don’t know that you were always in her ear about getting rid of me. You probably wanted to fuck her.”

“You're a sick bastard. Its over Ian, you need to stay away from her.”

“C'mon Jason,” Hotch wanted to get his friend out of the situation. He didn’t want him to haul off and knock Doyle on his ass. The cops didn’t look like they were in the mood to break it up. “We need to focus on Emily right now.”

Nodding, Gideon went into the building. He and Hotch walked up to the second floor. Emily’s door was ajar but they knocked anyway before walking in. Emily was inside with a male and female cop. She had been crying; Jason could see that her eyes were red.

As soon as she saw him, Emily rushed into his arms. She didn’t want to cry; he knew her. But she cried and shook anyway. Hotch saw the broken bottle of wine on the kitchen floor. He looked at his old friend holding the scared young woman and knew how much Jason cared about her. He shook his head and approached the police.

“I'm FBI Special Agent Aaron Hotchner.” He showed his ID. “Are you done questioning Ms. Prentiss?”

“She doesn’t want to press any harassment charges though we’ve been out here more times than we can count.” The male officer replied. His name was Cantor.

“How long will you be able to hold Mr. Doyle?” Hotch asked.

“24 hours, no more.” The female officer, McClenton, replied. “He's drunk as a skunk so we’ll put him in the drunk tank.” She lowered her voice. “She needs to get an order of protection…then we could do something when these incidents happen. He surely would've broken down the door if those slide locks hadn't been in place.”

“Thank you.” Hotch shook both of their hands and went over to Emily, who was now sitting on the couch with Jason.

The cops left, closing the door behind them.

“What happened?” Hotch asked.

“Same shit, different day.” Emily said, anger in her voice. “What the hell did you say to him? He accused me of getting the FBI on his ass. He was so pissed off.”

“I asked him the same questions I asked everyone else, Emily. Ian Doyle is dangerous.”

“He's just a drunk.” She replied.

“Really? What do you think he would've done if he’d gotten in here tonight?”

“Jason, keep him away from me. I'm not in the mood for this shit.” Emily said, getting up and walking to her bedroom.

“I really just want to get her out of town.” Jason said, going into the kitchen and cleaning up the wine and wine bottle.

“She needs to file an order of protection.” Hotch said. “She can insist he's not dangerous all she wants but he's an angry drunk. If he hurts her, in a fit of drunken rage, it’s not going to make her any less hurt because he regrets it.”

“I know Hotch.” Jason tried to hold back his frustration.

“Why won't she do it?”

“The answer will sound stupid to you.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“She doesn’t want to destroy his music career.” Jason opened the cabinet under the sink to drop the glass in. “If she gets an order of protection and he has to stay a certain amount of feet from her, its going to be hard for him to perform in the clubs.”

“Maybe that’s what he deserves for his actions.”

“It'll just make him angrier Hotch. And as you can see, he's angry enough.”

“Emily is in danger.” Hotch said. “The problem is I don’t know where the danger is coming from. Is it Ian Doyle? Is it the supposed stalker? Is Ian Doyle the stalker?

“I don’t know if anyone can ever get to the center of him. And she refuses to open up about him. I know she hardly knows me; I wouldn’t want to tell a stranger bad things that happened to me. Did she tell you why they broke up?”

“No.” Jason shook his head.

Hotch wasn’t sure if he believed him and that was strange because he always believed Jason. At one point he was Emily, under the man’s wing. He knew Jason was fiercely protective of those he loved. Right now two of the people he probably loved the most were at loggerheads and he was in the middle.

“Care to speculate?” Hotch asked.

Jason sighed. He turned his back on Hotch, grabbing the teakettle from stove. Going over to the sink, Jason filled it with water and then put it over a flame.

“I think he pushed her too far sexually.” Jason said, his tone so low Hotch had to struggle to hear.

“You think he raped her?”

“I don’t want to use that term, Aaron. I never used that term.”

“OK.” Hotch nodded.

“Are you out here talking about me?” Emily asked, coming back into the kitchen area.

“We’re making tea.” Jason replied.

“You suck at lying to me.”

“We don’t want to talk about you behind your back.” Hotch replied.

“What did you say to Ian when you saw him?” she asked.

“I just asked him the same questions I plan to ask everyone who’s close to you. I surely didn’t think he’d come to your apartment and attempt to kick in your door. He's not the nicest person when he drinks.”

“No,” she shook her head. “He isn’t. I need to find a way to end this.”

The kettle whistled and Jason prepared three cups of tea. They went into the living room to try and relax. Sensing the danger was gone, George came out from under the couch and jumped in Emily’s lap. She stroked his fur while lighting a clove. Cats didn’t usually like cigarette smoke but George wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to be loved.

“It may be time to seriously consider the order of protection.” Jason said.

“I know.” Emily nodded. “I’ll think about it while I'm out of town. Oh God, I can't wait to get out of this town. I never thought I’d say that…I love Manhattan. It used to enthrall me.

“When I first moved here, Penelope and I would walk everywhere. We must have beaten the hell out of so many pairs of shoes. From Washington Square Park to Alphabet City to the Village to Morningside Heights; we were both new and we discovered every nook and cranny of New York together. Now I'm running away.”

“Maybe you deserve a little time away.” Hotch said, sipping his chamomile tea. He was a tea enthusiast; this was the good stuff. “Everyone needs a vacation.”

“Touring isn’t vacation, believe me.” Emily shook her head. “Touring can be hell on earth. But I still want to get out of here.”

“Are you going to be OK here tonight?” Jason asked. “Do you want to call Sam or Penelope? Do you want to come home with me?”

“I’ll be fine.” Emily said, not entirely sure she believed that. “He’ll be spending the night in jail…I don’t have to worry about him coming back.”

Hotch watched Emily as she sipped her tea, smoked her clove, and stroked her cat. She was shaken and that wasn’t going to go away overnight. He wanted to know what Jason meant about Ian pushing her too far sexually. He knew she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. But there were still people to talk to. It wasn’t going to be an easy question to ask but they weren't leaving for Trenton until late afternoon. There was one person he could talk to before that.

***

“Sean O’Hara?” Hotch approached as two guys unloaded liquor off a truck.

“Yeah.” Sean wiped his dusty gloves off on his jeans.

“I'm FBI Special Agent Aaron Hotchner.” He showed his ID. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

“’Bout what?”

“Emily Prentiss…Ian Doyle.”

“Ian’s in jail, but I guess you know that. What he did last night was lunacy but what's the FBI got to do with it.”

“Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?” Hotch asked.

“I guess not. Megan, could you go and get Joe? This liquor won't unload itself.”

An attractive girl smoking a cigarette nodded. She flicked the smoke and went inside the pub. Sean walked over to the curb. Hotch went with him.

“Your cousin was out of control last night.”

“Yeah, I know. Look, I don't know what kind of voodoo that broad put on him but he can't let go.”

“So this is Emily’s fault?”

“I didn’t say that; don’t put words in my mouth. I'm just saying that Ian is infatuated and nothing anyone can do will shake it off.”

“Does he talk to you about it?” Hotch asked.

“Ian’s not much of a talker. I know he's angry but he's sad too. He doesn’t take rejection well and loses control when he drinks.”

“Was he ever physically abusive with Emily?”

“He didn’t smack her around. He's not that type of guy. They had some,” Sean cleared his throat. “There were confrontations. They both had injuries on different occasions. It wasn’t always pretty and other times it was bliss. They don’t belong together…love be damned.”

“You think Ian loved Emily?” Hotch asked.

Sean shrugged. He had no idea how to answer that. He never knew with Ian; his cousin wasn’t good with emotions. He wanted to keep Emily, own her, but love her, Sean had no idea.

“I don't know. Anything else?”

“Someone’s been sending Emily Prentiss threatening notes and gifts. Do you think Ian’s capable of that?”

“Some days I don’t know what he's capable of. I've never seen him like he's been since this breakup. He's had tons of girlfriends but this one is ridiculous. He’s like a brother to me, you know. I have an older brother but he was always too busy being perfect to pay me any mind.

“All I had was four sisters and my mother. It wasn’t fun or easy. Then Ian arrived and I had a friend, a partner in crime, and a brother. He has his troubles, mostly cuz of the drink.

“But deep down he's a decent guy. More important than that he's my family. I do my best to recognize his flaws but I can admit I'm biased. I can't say trying to scare Emily is beyond him.”

“What if he wants to do more than that?” Hotch asked. “I need you to be honest with me, Sean. Last night was the straw that broke the camel’s back in the Ian and Emily saga.”

“When he gets home this evening we’re gonna have a long talk.” Sean replied. “He's losing focus of everything. He needs to quit drinking and shake off this girl. Our band is suffering and so is our brotherhood. Ian is suffering too and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do to help.

“I'm gonna tell him if he doesn’t put an end to this I'm cutting him off. I need to do this for him. I've seen him down before but I've never seen him like this. I fear for him and everybody who ever loved him.”

“Your band is called Brogue, right?” Hotch asked, letting Sean’s words sink in.

“Yeah.” he nodded.

“Do you have a record out?”

“Our debut came out in late 2003. It sold alright locally; we were getting good gigs. We slipped in 2004. Emily and Ian went downhill and so did everything else. 2005 is half over and we've only done a handful of gigs.

“This band is important to me. It’s important to the guys who’ve sacrificed for it. I thought Ian was one of those guys but now I'm not so sure. Do you have anymore questions…I got work to do?”

“What do you think needs to happen for Ian to stop acting this way with Emily?”

“If I knew that we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Sean said. “I would've handled the situation already.”

“Thanks for your time, Sean.”

He didn’t respond, just turned and went back into the pub. It seemed as if all of the characters in the Ian and Emily saga were concerned about the outcome. None of them were sure how to turn the story around so it wouldn’t be a cautionary tale. That didn’t mean that Ian was Emily’s stalker.

Hotch was fighting a two-front war and he was just one man. He’d been here before; people had died. No matter what he couldn’t let that happen again. Unfortunately, the ball was not in his court. Hotch didn’t even know where the ball was.

***

“Duff McKagan!” Penelope exclaimed. “That’s a true story…make sure that thing is recording Adam.”

“It is; I got it. Duff McKagan inspired you to play bass.”

“Yes, that and Emily already had a guitar. It wasn’t going to work unless we wanted to be The Indigo Girls. We were going for something slightly different.”

“What about you, Derek?” Adam turned the camera on him. “What inspired you to become a musician and what continues to inspire you?”

“To be perfectly shallow…”

“Uh oh.” Emily smirked.

“Attention inspired me to really become a guitarist.” Derek said. “I loved the attention I got when I said I could play; that I did play. But then a couple of people told me I could be better than average if I put more focus in. I took their advice to heart.”

“Who is your inspiration?”

“Hendrix; first and foremost. Keith Richards and Pete Townshend are neck and neck for number two. And I know he doesn’t play guitar but I gotta take a moment to shout out Jay-Z. He’s always changing the game, staying fresh, and he's never a follower. He does his thing and either you like it or you don’t. I totally respect that…it’s not easy to stay significant for over a decade in any genre.”

The band sat in a booth at IHOP in Philadelphia. They were across the street from the Holiday Inn Midtown, where they stayed last night after driving from Trenton, New Jersey. Babylon had a great show at a club called The Eight Ball. Tonight in Philly they would perform at the TLA with Coal Miner’s Daughter and Persecuted. Then on Sunday they were in West Chester at the Front Street Pub before moving onto Baltimore for shows on Tuesday and Wednesday night.

“I just wanna be Keith Moon.” Coop said grinning. “You know, minus the dying in my own vomit thing…we can skip that. You can call me cliché but what drummer doesn’t aspire to his greatness.”

“Do you have a second choice?” Adam asked.

“Lars Ulrich. Metallica saved my life on more than one occasion. I've fallen out of love with the guys personally, funnily enough because of their documentary.” Everyone around the table laughed. “But the music will always be in my soul.”

“I also need to shout out Jason Newsted.” Penelope said. “He's a damn good bassist. And Mike Mills too…the list is endless.”

“Michael Anthony.” Derek added. “I've always loved Van Halen. They were my first real introduction to rock and roll as a preteen.”

“Sammy or Dave?” Adam asked.

“Do not get him started.” Penelope covered Morgan’s mouth.

“OK, I won't. I promise.” Adam laughed, pointing his handheld camera at Emily. “Who inspired you, Emily?”

“I might lose street cred over this but my first vocal inspiration was Karen Carpenter. I used to listen to her records and just…there are no words for what it made me feel. Then I discovered Carly Simon. I never truly thought I could be a singer or a guitarist. That was something other, more awesome people, did.”

“When did you think you could do it?” Adam asked.

“Um, probably when Penelope said ‘let’s start a band’. It didn’t take long for it to consume me.”

“What was the first song you learned to play on guitar?”

“ _Landslide_. I went through a Stevie Nicks phase while I was teaching myself.”

“The first song we ever rehearsed as a band was _Never_ by Heart.” Coop said laughing some. “I have no idea why I remember that."

“Because that drum line kicked your ass for days.” Derek replied laughing.

“Do I get to talk about Patti Scialfa?” Emily asked.

“Stop making everything about you.” Coop said.

There was more raucous laughter. Jason looked over at them from the booth he shared with Hotch and he smiled. They were young, talented, and mere steps from realizing all of their dreams. They worked hard and had been since 2000 when Morgan joined the band and it all begin to gel. When he turned back to Hotch, the smile was gone.

“This was waiting for me at the front desk this morning.”

“Is it what I think it is?” Hotch asked.

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Hand delivered; that’s interesting.”

“He knows where we are.” Jason said.

“Well, we both profiled that. Not to mention that the band does have a website. Everyone knows where you are. There's a big difference here though.” He sighed. “Can we get your interrogation over with? You know I can't rule anyone out…the letters have been coming directly to you. I know your handwriting but…”

“There's no need to explain anything, especially how you do your job. I called you here to do what you're doing. Like most everyone else I’ll do what I have to to keep Emily safe.”

“How did you meet Emily?” Hotch asked.

“Read the letter first Aaron.” Jason replied. “Something has changed.”

Hotch didn’t want to put on gloves in the middle of a family restaurant so he grabbed a small pair of tweezers from his inside jacket pocket. He pulled the letter from the envelope, carefully spreading it on the placemat.

 _Our eyes are practically the same; big, brown, and expressive. When I look into the mirror I can see you. Can you see me? I'm growing my hair long like yours but I'm not sure if I can get it straight. I need you to help me. Maybe I’ll just have yours, no one will know. We’re so much alike that it won't be that hard to become you. I’ll be gentle when I consume you and no one will know the difference. We can so easily become one_.

“What the hell?” Hotch looked at him. “This is…”

“I have no idea.” Jason shrugged. “We’ll, I'm sorry you’ll, compare and contrast it with the other letters. It’s definitely the same handwriting but the tone has changed. It’s become more personalized. Gentle when he consumes her is what concerned me. It’s threatening but its something else as well.”

“You're right. I'm going to look into the other letters and see if we can follow the track to this one. He’s changing up, and I don’t know if that’s to throw us off the scent or if we’re just dealing with someone losing their grip on reality.”

“I think you better ask me those questions now.” Jason said.

“How did you meet Emily Prentiss?”

“Her parents told her if she wanted to put college on hold to pursue her musical dreams that they would give her two years to do so. Her father said he wouldn’t use any of his connections, which are plentiful, to help. Emily didn’t want that anyway. Her stepmother, Natalie, heard about me from our mutual friend Nora Bennett.

“She knew I had all kinds of interests and a few connections of my own.” Jason said. “She asked me if I ever thought about being a band manager. I told her that was about all I hadn't thought about being. So a relationship was born.”

“When was that?”

“November 1999; Emily had just turned 21 and Penelope was 20. They had reached the point where they couldn’t do it on their own anymore. There was pressure from all sides to give up and go to college.”

“How would you describe your relationship with Emily?”

“It’s paternal for sure but Emily has a good father. We’re good friends, we trust each other and that’s something both of us have had difficulty with over the years. I admit to being fiercely protective of her. I feel the same about Penelope.”

“Are you sexually attracted to her?” Hotch asked, swallowing hard as he did. He didn’t want to ask; didn’t want to know. He needed to hear it though. It wasn’t fair to scrutinize everyone except Jason. Sometimes the people closest to you could be the scariest of all.

“Everyone is sexually attracted to her…that’s her curse. I have to admit, if she was 20 years older, even ten, there might be an issue. She's young enough to be my daughter. She needs people who care for her wholly not who want to abuse her body.”

“Have you two ever been sexually intimate?”

“No.” Jason shook his head. He flagged the server for more hot water. The tea was just tolerable but he needed some.

“What was your first thought when you got the flowers in April?” Hotch asked.

“I knew it was trouble. We've been around the block; got some freakish things over the years. But something about those roses made my blood cold. The Barbie doll was even more concerning. There are so many different interpretations to that doll.”

“Other than Ian Doyle, do you think there is anyone in Emily’s life capable of this?”

“In her inner circle, absolutely not. They're good kids and I've spent a lot of time with them. On the fringes,” Jason shrugged. “Who knows? So many people want to get close and they all have their own reasons. I have to watch out for all of them…there is so much Fool’s Gold in this industry. I even had a long talk with Adam before agreeing to let him come along. This documentary could be good for the band. But it could also be very good for his career too, no matter how it makes my kids look.”

Hotch nodded. He couldn’t understand why anyone would want to be in this business. He was a music lover himself and surely appreciated every artist who was there for him inside his radio over the years. But the other side of it, the music business, could tarnish even the brightest dreams.

“You told me that Ian Doyle was the only serious relationship Emily had been in since you met. What about some not so serious relationships?”

“She actually prefers being single.” Jason replied. “There was Jordan Todd; she's the one who got Emily into photography. They met when Emily was 19 and Jordan was at NYU. It wasn’t serious but they spent a lot of time together. Maybe you would describe it as friends with benefits.

“After graduation Jordan decided to make London her home base…she has family there. She’s returned to New York a few times in the past couple of years. I know she and Emily still keep in touch. I would probably add her to the list of people Emily trusts but she would better be able to answer that.”

“So Emily’s a bisexual?” Hotch asked.

“Emily is a trisexual…she’ll try anything once.” Jason smirked. He surely didn’t make that up himself; Emily said it to him. “Seriously though, sometimes she’s frivolous about sex. She's never unsafe; we've had that conversation too many times to count. But when she cares about someone, she is serious about that person. That’s why it was so hard to get rid of Doyle. Emily feels like she's failed enough. She doesn’t want to fail at love. I don’t know anyone who does.”

“Does she love Sam Kassmeyer?”

“Why? I hope you don’t think he…”

“Jason, I need you to answer my questions.”

“I'm sorry. Yes, she loves Sam. I think if Emily wasn’t so scared to death then she would just admit to being in love with him. But Sam is so normal.

“He has a Masters degree, a nine to five job, and no sign of a Messianic complex. Emily hasn’t quite grasped how well they compliment each other, or at least she refuses to grasp it. She’s still that rebellious girl who refuses to bring home someone her father approves of, much less endorses. Sam is a good guy.”

“One more question.” Hotch said. “To your knowledge, is there any jealousy or animosity between the members of the band? Emily tries to shun the solo spotlight but the press isn’t letting her. How do her band mates feel about it?”

Before Jason could answer there was more raucous laughter from their table. Coop had straws up his nose and Emily had what looked like Chiclets as her two front teeth. He smiled despite the seriousness of the conversation he was having.

“Talk to them, Hotch. Ask them those questions yourself. We’ll talk afterward and see if we think the same things.”

***

“You're not asleep, are you?” Emily turned around in her chair to look at him.

Hotch sat in the back of the mini-bus. His arms were folded and his head leaned on the window. Jason was driving and Penelope was listening to music and knitting. Derek, Coop, and Adam were behind them on I-95 in a van with the band’s equipment. Hotch hadn't meant to doze off but it had been a long weekend.

Babylon did two shows; Philly on Saturday and West Chester tonight. There was a 75 minute set at the Front Street Pub. They brought down the house; everyone was singing along. During the encore, Emily did a haunting cover of _Superstar_ that Hotch was sure he didn’t breathe through.

“I'm actually sound asleep.” He mumbled a reply. “I'm not even talking to you right now.”

“Cute.” She smiled. “Can I come back there?”

“Sure.”

Hotch sat up some as Emily joined him in the back three seats. She sat Indian style, leaning her back on the wall. There was a lot of space between them and that was probably for the best.

“Do you have any other clothes?” she asked. “Don’t get me wrong, the suits are very Thomas Crown Affair and I like that but we’re traveling around on a mini-bus. Plus at every show you kinda look like an FBI agent. Did you pack any jeans, sweats, or ratty college tee shirts?”

“I'm working Emily; we have a dress code.”

“Do you really?”

“Well, that’s easier than saying that I'm anal.” Hotch replied.

“If I looked as good as you do in a suit I would probably get a job where I had to wear one everyday too.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you enjoy the show?” Emily asked. “We were in the zone…it was great.”

“I enjoyed it very much. You have an amazing voice and did a beautiful cover of Superstar.”

“Karen Carpenter was my first inspiration. What 13 year old whose life is spiraling out of control doesn’t lie in the dark listening to _Rainy Days and Mondays_? Nevermind, that’s a bad question.”

“I don’t know too many 13 year olds whose lives are spiraling out of control.” He replied.

“Hi, I'm Emily Prentiss.” she extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Most people your age don’t even know The Carpenters, much less appreciate them.”

“I'm a musician…I know lots of music. Honestly it’s probably the only thing my mother ever gave me that I carry close to my heart. Well, that and my cat.”

“You're not close to your mother?”

“Are you close to yours?” Emily countered.

“At Thanksgiving and the occasional summer barbecue, yes I am.”

“Hahaha, Agent Hotchner made a funny.” She laughed, poking him in the center of his chest. “Parents aren’t easy.”

“Neither are kids.” He replied.

“Do you have kids?”

“I didn’t the last time I checked.”

“How old are you?” Emily asked.

“I’ll be forty two on my next birthday.” Hotch said.

“Well do you want kids? You might want to think about it before your back and knees start to give out. That gives you another good five years or so.”

“I've seen a lot in my job. I don’t know if I wouldn’t smother my kids in an effort to always protect them from what I see everyday.”

“But you help people right?” she asked. “You're the good guy and you put those creeps in prison.”

“I've put quite a few people in prison, yeah.” Hotch nodded.

“Have you ever not been able to save someone?”

Just the question was like a punch in the gut. Hotch closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to think of Haley and that horrific crime scene. No one deserved to have their lives end the way hers did. He sighed.

“I've lost people, yes. We’re not going to have that conversation. You focus on the Emily stuff and I’ll focus on the FBI stuff.”

“Jason told me about the new letter.” She said. “It was hand delivered in Philly.”

“Something like that. No one was able to tell us anything about who left it at the front desk. It just seemed to appear.”

“How does this person know where I am?”

“Your website tells what cities you're performing in.” Hotch said. “But it’s more than that. They’re called stalkers for a reason…someone is watching you.”

“You still think its Ian, don’t you?” Emily asked.

“While I find his behavior to be a major distraction in this case, I don’t think its Ian. I'm sure I don’t have to be a pain in the ass and tell you to stay away from him though.”

“No.” Emily shook her head. “I can be hard headed but I got that one loud and clear.”

“Emily, how did you and Ian get involved?” Hotch asked. “I can't pretend to know him, or you for that matter, but you two seem like polar opposites.”

“He swept me off my feet.” She sighed. “Ian is brilliant. He’s charming; so attractive and adventurous. He listened to me when I talked about my dreams and then he told me his. He liked to party but was just as comfortable when it was the two of us. I laughed when I was with him…felt butterflies in my stomach.

“I felt everything you're supposed to feel. His descent was gradual; I noticed little things here and there that I dismissed. Before I knew it he was all the way down in the pit and I was with him. It wasn’t like it is on TV; Monday he loved me and Tuesday he shoved me down a flight of stairs. It was more insidious than that.”

“Are you afraid of him?”

“I'm afraid of what he can do when he's drunk and angry.” She ran her fingers through her dark hair. “I don’t like talking about this.”

“I understand that. It can't be easy.”

“You're not profiling me, are you Hotch? Look, I know we’re not friends and you're here to do a job but I don’t want to be profiled. Promise me you won't ever profile me.”

“I promise.” Hotch replied. He felt a little guilt for lying. He profiled her the first day they met. It was a hazard of the job. Hotch profiled baristas, newsstand guys, and dog walkers.

He certainly wasn’t going to be able to help himself when he actually spent time with a person and talked to them. Profiling was not a form of judging people. It just wasn’t easy to explain that to them. “That’s not what I'm here for. I'm here to profile the person writing these letters.”

“What do you know so far?”

“We don’t need to talk about it right now. It’s after midnight and you don’t need to be thinking of this when you go to sleep tonight.”

“I'm always thinking about it.” she replied.

“We’ll talk soon, Emily, I won't keep you in the dark where your safety is concern. I promise.”

“Gimme some happy thoughts.”

“I'm sorry?” Hotch rubbed his eyes. It was late and he needed to get the contact lenses out. He needed to lie on a pillow and dream. He needed Emily Prentiss to be just a little further away.

“I need happy thoughts so I can relax. I'm always amped after a show; it’s like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart. Jason won't let me smoke my cloves on the bus so I can't use them to come down. Give me some calming, happy thoughts.”

“In about an hour,” Hotch looked at his watch. “We’re gonna be at the hotel. You can lie down on a comfortable bed, play your favorite song, and watch fireflies dance behind your eyelids.”

“I thought I was the only one who thought that goofy thing about fireflies.” Emily replied smiling. “No, Sam thinks it too.”

“So do I.”

“And here I thought Jason was a mystery wrapped in an enigma. No wonder you two are so close. Tell me, was it in Nicaragua in the 80s? Perhaps in Colombia during the Pablo Escobar takedown?”

“Where do you come up with these things?” Hotch asked grinning.

“Oh my God,” Emily covered her mouth. “You have dimples. You have the cutest dimples.” She reached over and poked his cheek. “That’s so awesome.”

“I wish I could take the credit for them but I can't. Apparently Hotchners have the dimples gene.”

“I love them.”

“Why?”

“I don't know, I just do.” she shrugged. “Thanks for the happy thoughts, Hotch. I’ll leave you alone now to get some rest.”

Emily got up and walked toward the front of the bus. Hotch sighed, loosening his tie. He leaned back, tried to relax, and folded his arms. Now he was going to need some happy thoughts because he didn’t need Emily Prentiss running through his mind for the rest of the night.

***

The Road House was a dump. It was big and the bar, along with its selection was impressive, but it was still a dump. As Adam filmed the band getting ready for their show in a few hours and Jason went over things band managers went over with the owner, Hotch checked the place out. There were sprinklers but who knew it they actually worked.

The floor was rickety and creaked with nearly every step. He saw two fire exits in addition to the front door and they led out to wide alleys. There were three fire extinguishers in the place, none of which were expired. He went up on stage and started checking things out up there. Coop stared at him as he poked around.

“Were you a health inspector in a past life?” he asked. “This place would fail, huh?”

“Something like that.” Hotch replied.

“That’s the life of an up and coming band.” Derek said, working on the microphones. “This ain't Madison Square Garden by a long shot.”

“Someday,” Coop said. “For now, I like to focus on the fans and how cool it is that they can reach out and touch us. Who can do that with U2?”

“Sometimes people want to get too close.” Hotch replied, bouncing on the balls of his feet and then actually jumping on the stage.

“What are you doing?” Emily asked, walking on stage from the back.

“Agent Hotchner’s joining the band.” Coop replied. “We’ll give him a tambourine and let him sing harmony. Do you know any Simon and Garfunkel songs?”

“No one’s allowed to join the band if I don’t know what they look like in a tee shirt.” Emily said smiling.

“Are you discriminating against guys who wear suits?” Hotch asked.

“I cannot tell a lie.” Emily walked up to the front microphone. “Yes, I am.”

They laughed, going back to their work. Hotch continued checking the stage.

“Mike one; mike one, two, three.” Emily spoke into the microphone. “Hey, I'm getting too much echo. Can I get a treble change?”

Someone behind the bar nodded.

“Mike one.” She said again. “Mike one, two, three.” She gave the guy the thumbs up before she started to sing.

Hotch couldn’t believe she was singing _Somewhere over the Rainbow_. While she was no Judy Garland, no one was but the woman herself, she was amazing. It seemed as if everyone stopped; everything stopped. Emily was the sun and they all revolved around her. Then Hotch heard a snap. That brought him back to reality immediately.

He heard another snap, a creak, and he looked up. A set of light fixtures was falling fast. Rushing forward, he grabbed Emily around the shoulders and waist, pushing her to the floor. Hotch covered her as the fixtures fell. Glass shattered and flew. Coop and Morgan ducked for cover from flying glass since they weren't in any danger of the fixture actually hitting them.

“Holy shit!” Coop exclaimed.

“Oh my God, is everyone alright?” Jason and the owner rushed to the stage.

“Are you guys OK?” Morgan asked.

Hotch sat up and helped Emily do the same. She looked dazed and shaken. One minute she was singing, and she was always in the zone while singing, the next she was on the floor with a heavy body on top of her. She heard the fixture crash down but it sounded far away instead of a few feet from her. It would've been right on top of her if Hotch hadn't acted quickly.

“Emily, are you alright?” he asked.

“Goddamn, did you play football growing up?”

“Baseball,” Hotch replied. “Are you alright?”

“I think so.”

“Clear the stage guys.” Glen, the owner said. “We’ll get this cleaned up immediately.”

“Glen, this place looks worse than the last time we were here.” Jason said. “Someone could’ve been hurt or killed.”

“I'm up to code, Gideon. Yeah, some things need to be fixed but I'm doing my best. Times are tough.”

Hotch stood, offering his hands to Emily and gently pulling her to her feet.

“Ow.” She rubbed her arm.

“You're hurt. We need to get you to an ER.”

“I'm fine. You're 6’2” and at least what, 200 pounds or something; you landed on top of me. I'm just shaken up…nothing that a stiff drink won't cure.”

“How about a Jack and Coke?” the bartender asked.

“Ding, ding, ding,” Emily pointed at him as she left the stage and sat down in a chair. “Tell the man what he's won.”

“Just one drink.” Jason said nodding.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Are you sure you won't go to a hospital?” Hotch asked. “You could be injured.”

“I've broken bones before, Agent Hotchner. This doesn’t feel anything like that, plus I usually tend to cry like a 4 year old boy when that happens. I'm really fine.”

Adam and Penelope walked through the front door.

“Whoa, what happened?” he asked.

“Where were you, dude?” Coop asked.

“I went out for a smoke and Penelope came out of the bus so I was filming some of her stories. What happened?”

“One of the fixtures fell.” Jason replied. “Emily was almost hit.”

“Oh my God, are you alright?” Penelope asked, rushing her best friend.

“I'm fine.” Emily reached for the drink and took a healthy gulp. “Man, I feel better already.”

“Are you sure?” Jason asked gently. He knew Emily couldn’t stand being babied. She took care of herself.

“I'm sure.” she nodded.

“Let me check your arm and shoulder at least.” Hotch said. “I’ll do that and then promise to leave you alone.”

“FBI agent, health inspector, background singer, and now a doctor.” Emily smiled. “Wow, Hotch, I'm impressed.”

“Hold out your arm please.”

Emily did what he asked and Hotch started feeling from the shoulder down. She grimaced a bit but didn’t cry or scream. Nothing was broken but there was still the possibility of a sprain. He knew telling her that was useless though. He went back up to her shoulder, gently massaging.

“Mmm, you may have missed your calling.” Emily said, sighing happily.

Hotch pulled away suddenly, as if she were burning hot. Penelope and Adam laughed.

“You'll be fine.” He said. “But I do recommend a hot shower and a little Icy Hot before bed for the shoulder and arm.”

“I can do that.”

“See, sometimes she does listen.” Jason said. “C'mon guys, we need to finish setup and sound check.”

“Are you sure you're OK?” Adam asked as Emily stood and finished her drink.

“I'm cool. The show must go on and Baltimore always gives us love.” she looked directly into the camera he was once again holding up. “I'm so excited to play tonight.”

***

“I bought you some tee shirts; you'll love them.” Emily said. “They're all teeny tiny so they should fit you perfectly.”

“I'm not teeny tiny.” Ashley replied laughing. “Shut up.”

“You're grown up in all the ways that matter.”

“Thanks. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, kiddo. What have you been up to?”

“Nathan and I have been hanging out. There are lots of basement parties but they all suck. Our friend finally hooked us up with some legit looking fake IDs, which cost a fortune. We can finally hit the 18+ clubs.”

“You better be careful. If you get caught up in a sweep, Grandma will have a conniption. You'll be on my shit list as well. And let us not even talk about Nathan’s mom; she's the world’s biggest tight ass. OK, that might be Erin Strauss. But Nathan’s mom is a very close second.”

“Mrs. Harris is a bit overprotective cuz Nathan was a sickly kid and then his dad died.” Ashley said. “But she's OK. At least she's letting him hang out more this summer.”

“Did you give him some?” Emily asked.

There was a knock at her hotel room door. The show was over and she was coming down. There had been a long shower, some Icy Hot, and a couple of drinks from the mini-fridge. Now it was ratty sweats and a tank top. Talking to the people she cared about always brought her down after a long day and night. While Emily was surprised to see Hotch on the other side of the door, she beckoned him in with her hand.

“Nathan is afraid of girls I think.” Ashley said. “Or perhaps he's just afraid of me.”

“Is he gay?” Emily asked, smiling at Hotch’s raised eyebrow.

“Nah, I don’t think so. He’s kinda jumpy but he does enjoy feeling me up.”

“Yeah, that’s normal at 16. Sweetie, I gotta go OK? Be good and be good to Grandma. I’ll call again soon.”

“Bye Emily.”

She hung up her phone and put it on the nightstand. Then she lit a clove, inhaling deeply.

“What's up, Chuck?”

“I don’t want to scare you.” Hotch said.

“Then don’t. I'm OK with that.”

“I can't be sure what happened today was an accident. That, along with the strange letter we got in Philly, concerns me that this might be about to escalate. I need to be close to you at all times.”

“What do you mean?” Emily asked, already suspecting and not liking it. Jason hadn't even come with him to soften the blow.

“You can't stay alone in hotel rooms until we get a hold on this. I'm sorry, Emily.”

“There's only one bed. Are we about to take this relationship to the next level, Agent Hotchner?”

“The chair is fine.” Hotch replied, holding back his full blown grin. This was serious and she knew that. The flirty banter was a defense mechanism. “I hope you don’t mind my feet on the bed though.”

“No.” Emily shook her head. “Do you really think my life is in danger?”

“The honest answer is that I don’t know. But my job is sometimes to overprotect rather than under protect.”

Emily nodded and they were quiet for a while. She smoked her clove while Hotch added a pillow to the chair in a purely futile attempt to make it more comfortable. Oh well, he’d been in the FBI a long time. He’d been and slept in much less comfortable places than the Baltimore Holiday Inn Express. This place was Buckingham Palace compared to some places he’d stayed over the years. He was sure Babylon felt the same way.

“Penelope Google’d you.” she said after a long and uncomfortable silence.

“Should I know what that means?” Hotch asked, taking off his shoes. His jacket went on the table. He loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt, and rolled up his sleeves to the elbow.

“When we want to know information about people and can't get it from them, we Google it. It’s a search engine.”

“I know what Google is, I've just never heard it used as a verb. It sounds explicit.”

“That’s why I like it.” Emily replied.

“And what did you learn when you Google’d me?”

“You worked the Haley Brooks case.”

“I don’t want to talk about that Emily.”

“You asked me what I learned and that’s some of what I learned. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories but I guess Jason wasn’t kidding around when he said you'd been at this for a long time.”

“No,” Hotch shook his head and sat down. “He wasn’t. I've been in the FBI for 15 years.”

“Wow.” She thought about that as she finished her clove and sipped her screwdriver. “What's your favorite song?”

“I'm sorry?” the jump in conversation caught Hotch off guard.

“I'm sure you don’t want to talk all night about being a profiler. You do that all day. So I thought I’d ask you what your favorite song is. C'mon, everybody has one.”

“ _In My Life_.” Hotch replied.

“Are you one of those Beatles fanatics?” she asked, lighting another clove. The room was non-smoking but she didn’t particularly care. She didn’t feel like going all the way outside. It had started to drizzle anyway.

“Probably. I surely have other musical tastes but I am quite fond of the Beatles.”

“I only like their post-Sergeant Pepper stuff. The early 60s stuff is drivel. Plus they didn’t do much but bite off other guys who did it better. I know my opinion is in the minority but…” Emily shrugged.

“What's your favorite song?” Hotch asked.

“It may be a cliché, and I don’t care, but its _How Soon is Now_.”

“I don’t know it.”

“You’ve never heard of The Smiths, or Morrissey?” she asked.

“No.” Hotch shook his head.

“Hmm, oh well I still like you.”

“I appreciate that.” he managed a smile.

“Tell me what your favorite guilty pleasure song is.”

“I can admit to sometimes having no idea what you're talking about.”

“It’s a song you love but usually keep a secret. Maybe the artist is considered uncool; or the song itself is. The Bee Gees fall heavily into this category though people don’t know what they’re missing. Anyway, you could care less about coolness…the song does something for you.”

“I'm not going to get away with avoiding the question, am I?”

“Well if we have to be roomies, we have to talk right?”

“We could always sleep. It’s after one in the morning.”

“We’ll sleep…eventually.”

“My mother loves Barry Manilow.” Hotch said. “She used to play his records all the time and it drove me insane. But they also got stuck in my head. I really love the song _Weekend in New England_.”

“Barry’s cool.” Emily nodded.

“He is?”

“Sure. He would fall into the ‘so uncool that he's cool’ category. I can appreciate him like every other artist I enjoy. In high school, Penelope and I made up this ridiculously awesome interpretive dance to _Copacabana_. We had a lot of time on our hands and did some good drugs.”

“It’s getting late Emily; we should probably get some sleep.”

“You're not much of a conversationalist, are you?” she asked.

Hotch didn’t answer and Emily didn’t press. The idea of them being forced together, she could probably live with it. The idea that would live in virtual silence the whole time would surely drive her bonkers.

“Well I promised Sam that I would call before bed.” Emily stood up, taking her cell phone. “I’ll just step into the bathroom; excuse me.”

“It’s not too late to call?” Hotch asked. “Doesn’t Sam have work in the morning?”

“Sure but I promised him I’d call and I want to hear his voice.”

She smiled and stepped into the bathroom. Hotch let out a long sigh, almost like relief, and tried to relax in the chair. He wasn’t going to sleep much tonight but something was always better than nothing.

***

It was the largest basket of French fries Hotch had ever seen. They were steak fries with Old Bay seasoning and five different dipping sauces. You could choose from honey mustard, barbecue, ketchup, bacon ranch, and something called French fry sauce. He had no idea what that was. Morgan, Coop, and Penelope sat in the booth eating as if it were their last meal.

Hotch was pretty sure that it wasn’t. But it was lunchtime and the Georgetown Diner in Washington, DC was crowded. Culture Club played on the jukebox and Hotch was finally interviewing Babylon about their lead singer. He was going to do it a week ago or more but decided to hang back and check out band interaction.

They were more than a band, it was clear they were all friends. They joked, played, and were tender with each other. That surely didn’t mean there wasn’t bitterness, hostility, or jealousy underneath all of that. Hotch just didn't think asking was always the way to find out about that. In fact, it was the least likely way. He sipped his iced tea as the band chowed down.

“I expected you to talk to us like forever ago.” Coop said. “For a minute I thought you might not be as badass as advertised but then I remembered you're Gideon’s friend.”

“What does that mean?” Hotch asked.

“Everyone knows Gideon is like former CIA.” Morgan said. “It’s altogether possible that he's The Jackal; I mean not that we’ll ever know.”

“Where do these rumors come from?”

“I can't find anything on him prior to like 1998.” Penelope said. “And if you knew me, Agent Hotchner…I can get into some amazing places on my computers. I'm thinking former Mossad, possible Nazi hunter.”

“OK, now that we’ve cleared that up.” Hotch smiled some. “I wanted to talk to you guys about Emily.”

“Do you think Doyle is her stalker?” Morgan asked.

“I don’t know. I refuse to rule out anyone and that includes you guys.”

“We’d never do a thing to hurt Emily.” Coop said.

“If this was Lifetime we would.” Penelope replied. “It’s always the best friend on Lifetime.”

“This isn’t Lifetime, baby girl.” Morgan said. “This is the real world.”

“Oh c'mon, our real world resembles Lifetime way more than I would like. For years I thought it’d be like MTV in its heyday…I was wrong.” she munched on a fry. “You should have some of these, Agent Hotchner, they’re awesome.”

“No thanks. So how long have each of you know Emily?”

Penelope had known her the longest, almost 13 years. Coop was next; they met when they were 17. Morgan joined the band in 2000 so he knew her for 5 years.

“I know sometimes bands can be very close. Have any of you ever had intimate relationships with each other or with Emily specifically?”

“That’s where we draw the line.” Morgan replied. “The band is the band; we’re not gonna become Fleetwood Mac.”

“Even though all of their bed-hopping insanity created _Rumours_.” Penelope said. “Its one of the top 10 selling albums of all time and it kicks ass. I’d sleep with Morgan to get _Rumours_.”

“You'd sleep with Morgan for free.” Coop said.

“Don’t be jealous.” Morgan pointed at him with a French fry.

“So there's never been any intra-band intimacy?” Hotch asked.

“No.” they all shook their heads.

“How do you guys feel about Emily constantly getting the spotlight despite you all being formidable songwriters and musicians?”

“It’s a cross any band has to bear.” Coop replied. “It’s not the press that worries us; their attention span is just too short to focus on four and not one. I sometimes worry that Emily could start to believe the press. I know she’s not like that and I've known her a long time but still…you worry.”

“I honestly worry that it’ll take a toll on her.” Garcia said. “She doesn’t want the spotlight that way. Believe me when I tell you that Emily has the talent and drive to be a super-successful solo artist. She doesn’t need us, Agent Hotchner; she wants us. She wants to share the artistry. We make her better and she makes us better. It’s not just a friendship, it’s a mutual beneficial relationship.”

“What do you think, Morgan?” Hotch asked.

“I agree with Garcia. Emily doesn’t want the spotlight only on herself. Sometimes I think that she hides behind the band. She could be Patti Scialfa if she wanted to. But the fame monster is sometimes too much for one person to handle. Instead of an entourage, she has a band. I'm glad about that…this has been the best job of my life.”

“Do you guys know of any relationships, good or bad, that Emily has engaged in other than Ian Doyle? Have there been any one-night stands she regretted afterward or someone who wouldn’t let go?”

“Doyle is the only creep who wouldn’t let go.” Morgan said.

“Wouldn’t it be better if you asked Emily about her sex life?” Coop asked. “It kinda feels like we’re talking about her behind her back.”

“Honestly, sometimes Emily tends to not take things seriously.” Hotch said. “I'm not saying that’s a bad thing. I'm just saying she might pass someone off as a minor annoyance and they could turn out to be very dangerous.”

“Before Ian, she was in a dry spell.” Penelope said. “There was a person here and there but it’s really just been Jordan and Ian relationship-wise for as long as I've known her. And there's Sam Kassmeyer of course; he’s always been there.”

“Were she and Sam ever serious?” Hotch asked.

“He's so in love with her its ridiculous.” Morgan replied. “I know she loves him too but they aren’t like that, no. And before you go there, Sam Kassmeyer wouldn’t hurt a fly. I know people can wear some serious masks but Sam is a good guy. I know that in my gut.”

“Sam is a sweetheart.” Penelope added.

“Tell me about strange fans or friends who are no longer friends. Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt her?”

Her friends really couldn’t. They were in a highly competitive business but also a small, intimate, and friendly community. Everyone had each other’s back. Of course there were petty jealousies and sometimes relationships gone wrong but for the most part everything was cool. Their fans were cool people too and usually they spent late nights after gigs hanging out with them.

“Since she told us about the stalker I’ve been extra vigilant.” Morgan said. “I can't say I've seen anything out of the ordinary. Some nights in our business can resemble _Caligula_ but no, I haven’t seen anything that made me worry about Emily’s safety. Plus Jason has been hanging around so people tend to back off when he’s in full protective mode.”

“I still can't really believe its someone we know.” Coop said. “We’ve been at this for six years and these people are like extended family. I think this is some person we've never seen before in our lives; I hope we never have to.”

“What do you think, Penelope?”

“I think sometimes you think people are one thing and they turn out to be something else altogether. At the same time, I've been watching as well. I'm not a profiler but no one has been displaying the kind of behavior you're talking about. They wouldn’t want to stand out though, would they?”

“No.” Hotch shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean that someone observant wouldn’t have gotten a vibe from them. Tell me about Adam Jackson…is he someone who shows Emily more attention than he shows you guys?”

“Not really.” Coop said. “I think he's been fair in making his documentary. We all get separate scenes but he's making a Babylon movie, not one about Emily Prentiss and her band.”

“Adam’s mostly gay anyway, or at least I think so.” Morgan said. “Sometimes we don’t bother to ask each other those kinds of questions. Everyone’s fuckin everyone; which can be all kinds of insanity in its own right. He’s got a serious thing for my…Spencer Reid.”

“Your what?” Hotch asked. “Spencer Reid is your what, Derek?”

“Well I was gonna say roommate but I'm afraid if I say it out loud he might never leave.”

“He ain't leaving anyway. Dude, it’s been two years and you buy that soy milk shit he drinks.” Coop said. “Yeah, Adam has a serious crush on Spencer. Not that I don’t think he likes girls but his sexual green light has definitely been on Spencer for at least a year.

“He probably has a weird 12 year boy crush on Emily though. Shit, almost everyone we know does. It’s like all about Emily, Penelope, Sarah Danlin from Jones, and Megan Kane from Coal Miner’s Daughter. There are more women in our circle but those four beat off the boys with a stick.”

“Its true.” Penelope nodded and smiled. “It’s really hard to have a boyfriend and be doing this. If you plan to question every guy who gave Emily attention, unwanted attention, or too much attention, you're gonna need to call some more agents in.”

***

“Alone at last.” Adam said, making sure his camera was working properly.

“Is this the part where we make out before the killer shows up?” Emily asked laughing.

“They don’t call me Action Jackson for nothing, baby.” He winked.

They both laughed. It was a rainy Saturday and the band was in Richmond, Virginia. They’d been on the road for two weeks and there was two more to go before a trip back home. It was raining out; storming actually, but Adam and Emily were hanging out in the mini-bus.

They were parked in the lot of the Holiday Inn Express. He thought the hotel chain should consider sponsoring the band; they always seemed to be staying at one. It was time for Emily’s confessional, as Penelope called them. All four band mates, and Jason Gideon too if Adam was lucky, would get in front of his camera to talk about music, Babylon, and life in general.

“Did you know I was born with music in my veins?” Emily asked. She lit a clove though Jason forbade smoking on the bus. She was going to have to smoke if she was ‘confessing’. Jason forgave her for everything; she’d be OK.

“What do you mean?”

“My mother wanted a boy more than anything so she hadn't picked out a girl’s name. On the way to the hospital when she was in labor _For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her_ came on the radio. After I was born and my mother admitted she had no name picked out my father remembered the song. That’s how I became Emily.”

“Is that a true story?” he asked.

“Fuck if I know but that’s what my dad told me. I choose to believe him.”

“How do your parents feel about your career choice?”

“My stepmother supports everything I do.” Emily popped the top off her old paper coffee cup to ash her clove. “She was the one who hooked Penelope and I up with Jason and used to let us practice at the house at all hours. The neighbors weren't pleased. My dad, I don't know.” She shrugged. “I know he loves me but I'm sure he’d prefer I was doing something else.”

“If you weren't a musician what would you be?” Adam asked.

“Honestly, a party girl. Yeah, I probably would've gone to Yale and gotten my degree but I don’t see the nine to five life for me. I could be a secret agent…that would be cool. I’d go undercover to foreign lands and seduce people to gain intelligence. Hmm, I wonder where I apply for a job like that.”

“I don’t think the CIA hires off the street.”

“Damn, I knew I would hit a snag somewhere.” Emily grinned.

“What about your mom? Does she like the music?”

“I honestly don’t know. We haven’t been close since she sent me to live in New York when I was almost 14. I did send her a copy of _Ashes and Dust_ when it came out. She sent a thank you note.”

“You said you wanted to talk a little about Patti Scialfa. Why is she so special to you?”

“Oh, it’s not just Patti. I've had a bunch of influences. As I said, Karen Carpenter was my first. Then there was Carly Simon. But really I just love a woman who can express her true emotion through the music. I listen to everything from Joni Mitchell to Patti Scialfa to Mary J. Blige…women rock. I think there is a female artist for every single one of my moods. Believe me I have a ton of moods.”

“You’ve mentioned solo artists primarily but you're in a band.” Adam said. “Have you ever contemplated going solo?”

“No.” Emily shook her head. “Believe me, the time will come when I record a solo record. That’s mostly because my band mates and I have a lot of similar musical tastes but some vastly different ones as well.

“It has nothing to do with a desire to be a solo artist. I didn’t start a band so I could be plucked from obscurity and leave the ones who always had my back behind. Babylon is four parts that make a whole and we’ll make it together. OK, two solo albums, cuz I have to do a cover album of my most influential songs.”

“You can just do a double album.” Adam replied.

“Do they still make those?” Emily asked.

“Um…I’ll get back to you on that.”

They laughed and Emily took a deep inhale of her clove.

“Tell me a little bit about what inspires Emily Prentiss to write music and sing it.”

“Well I kinda suck at writing music. Penelope is Elton John and I'm Bernie Taupin…sometimes Coop is Elton. I'm a lyricist first and sometimes I luck out and can churn something out on guitar or piano that matches the mood of my lyrics. I wish I was equally as good at both but the truth is I'm not. Well, I guess I don’t want to be perfect.”

“What's the dark side of this life, Emily? Everyone sees the photo shoots, interviews, and trips to the Grammies…”

“We’ve never been to the Grammies.” She replied, dropping the clove in the leftover coffee. “Even though they’re kinda mainstream and lame if I got tickets I would dance naked in my living room.”

“C'mon, you know what I mean. Fans even believe small bands like Babylon are living the indie high life; rock and roll all night and party everyday. What's the other side?”

“Well, there are lots of other sides. You lose your privacy, and that’s a big deal. You have to wear your game face a lot. You have to beware of false prophets and fake friends. People can be out to hurt you and benefit themselves.

“I love my life and what I do. While I keep my feet grounded in the reality of the fact that it’s a business as well as my music, I prefer to focus on the positive. I have amazing friends and great fans that come to see us whenever we perform. This is a great life and I'm in a great band.”

“What about your home life? Everyone knows you recently ended a long term relationship with…”

“Adam, don’t.” Emily held up her hand.

“What? I'm not going to ask about Ian. All I want to know is what Emily Prentiss wants at the end of the day. Do you see another relationship in your future? What are you looking for in a mate?”

“When you say mate it reminds me of Tarzan and Jane.” She smiled a little. “I don't know; I really don’t. It seems the older I get that’s the one thing I can say for sure. I don't know shit when it comes to love.

“If you truly want to know my thoughts on the subject at this moment,” Emily looked at her watch as she lit another clove. “My thoughts at 2:39pm on Saturday afternoon are perfectly summed up in Elton John’s _This Train Don’t Stop There Anymore_. That’s all I can say about it.”

“That’s good enough for me, Emily.” Adam put the camera down. “This was really good. You won't mind talking again, will you?”

“No. It was actually pretty cathartic. You're so much cheaper than a therapist.”

“Oh please, you’ve got one of those…we all do.”

“You are so right. Hang out for a little while; I’ll smoke this clove and then we’ll go out together.”

“Sure.” Adam nodded, putting his stuff in his ever present backpack.

***

 _Put on my blue suede shoes and I boarded the plane  
Touched down in the land of delta blues  
In the middle of the pouring rain  
W.C. Handy, won't you look down over me  
Yeah I got a first class ticket  
But I'm as blue as a boy can be  
Then I'm walking in Memphis  
I was walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale  
Walking in Memphis  
But do I really feel the way I feel_

“I wonder if they get tired of tourists singing this.” Derek said.

“I don’t care.” Emily replied. “It’s a damn good song. I wish I would've written it.”

“I wish I wrote Livin on a Prayer.” Coop said.

Everyone around the table laughed. They were sitting on the second floor balcony of Alfred’s on Beale. A bottle of Jack Daniels sat in the middle of the table. The band, along with Adam, was doing their fair share of shots as they drank beer and ate barbecue.

Gideon did a group shot but stuck to his Glenfiddich, which he drank slowly. Hotch had one beer and then did Coke for the rest of the evening. They'd been there for hours and were doing their best to enjoy themselves. It was the last two shows before break but something happened in Nashville to set the whole band on edge.

Emily wasn’t talking about it and no one was pressing her. She just wanted to forget about it and get through the shows. She loved this town and they always showed the band love. The show had to come first; she could fall apart some other time.

“What do we have to do to get you to do a shot, Agent Hotchner?” she asked.

“I'm on duty.” He replied.

“No fair,” Penelope said. “You can't be on duty 24-7…that makes no sense.”

“What she said.” Morgan said.

“In this job I'm afraid you can be.”

“Well when do you have a life?” Adam asked.

“I don’t.”

“Bullshit,” Emily grabbed the bottle and poured a shot. “You're having a life tonight. Its Memphis, if you can't have a life here then you can't have one anywhere. Have a drink on me, Hotch.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It won't get you drunk.” Coop said. He was already inebriated. “Just go with the flow.”

“Do one and we won't bother you anymore.” Penelope said nodding happily.

“This is peer pressure.” Hotch said.

“In its purest form.” Morgan grinned.

“Gimme the damn shot.” Hotch took the glass. They all whooped as he looked at Jason. The older man nodded, holding up one finger.

Emily poured another five shots and the bottle was empty. She held it up, waving it. “Garcon, we’d like another bottle of your finest bourbon whiskey please.”

The server came by, nodded, and took it.

“Wait, bring that back!” Penelope exclaimed, reaching for it. “We need to keep it and commemorate our time in Memphis.”

He gave her back the bottle, walking away to get another.

“OK, what are we drinking to?” Emily asked.

“Hotch having a life for one night.” Morgan replied.

“This might call for hookers and silly string.” Coop said.

“Dude, I want nothing to do with your fantasies.” Adam said.

There was more laughter as they all held up their glasses. Taking the shot was nothing for Hotch; he’d done his fair share of drinking. He looked at Emily and she was smiling at him. She had such a beautiful smile even when she was bordering on drunk.

“How did it feel, Agent Hotchner?” she asked.

“It wasn’t my first shot.” He replied.

“It was your first shot with us.” Penelope said. “Have you been holding out on us? Are you like Quantico Shot Champion five years running?”

“I don’t think that title exists, Penelope.”

“It’s a military base,” Morgan replied. “I betcha it does.”

“Well then I can say that I'm not the champion.”

“You swallow well though.” Adam said.

“Whoa, that could be soooo misinterpreted dude.” Coop said.

Gideon spit out the scotch in his mouth and Emily gently hit his back as he sputtered a bit. He was doing some strange combination of coughing and laughing, shaking his fist at Coop. Morgan pulled a $10 bill out of his pocket, handing it to the drummer.

“What's that about?” Emily asked.

“We’ve had a five dollar bet running for about three years that neither one of us could ever make Gideon laugh out loud.”

“I wasn’t laughing, I was choking.” The older man corrected.

“Yeah, whatever.” Coop said.

“You gave him $10 shug.” Penelope said.

“Double or nothing that we’d do it by accident.” Coop replied winking.

000

 _Uh huh, uh huh  
Gloria, how's it gonna go down  
Will you meet him on the Main Line?  
Or will you catch him on the rebound?  
Will you marry for the money?  
Take a lover in the afternoon?  
Feel your innocence slippin away  
Don’t believe its coming back soon  
And you really don’t remember  
Was it something that he said?  
Or the voices in your head  
Calling GLORIA!!!_

Penelope and Emily walked down the drizzly street, arms around each other, singing Laura Branigan at the top of their lungs.

“They do this.” Gideon leaned to whisper to Hotch.

“Interesting.”

Adam was recording, with Jason’s permission. He knew the manager never wanted to do anything to show the band in a bad light but this was amazing. He wished he would've filmed the whole evening…it had been a while since he had that much fun.

“I know we’re with a federal agent but I think I might buy some love tonight.” Coop said.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Hotch said as they approached their hotel.

“He’d have to have some money to buy some love.” Morgan replied.

“I got ten bucks.” Coop patted his pocket.

“Lord, you do not want $10 love in Memphis.” Adam said. “You can get the clap for free in Manhattan.”

That one caught Hotch off guard and he burst into laughter. That made everyone stop walking and look at him. Coop was broke again because both he and Morgan were giving $10 to Adam. Gideon shook his head.

“You guys are awful.”

“What are you bad boys up to back there?” Penelope asked. The singing stopped, she and Emily turned around to see the show.

“We wanna play too.” Emily said.

“Garbo laughs.” Morgan pointed at Hotch.

“And I'm rich.” Adam said, focusing his camera on Coop laughing.

“Is it raining?” Emily asked.

“Um…you’re drunk Prentiss.” Coop said. “It’s been raining for about two hours.”

“Well let’s get back; I don’t wanna get wet.”

They kept walking and in a few minutes were in the lobby of the Holiday Inn Select. Another city; another Holiday Inn. Emily and Penelope were still singing, this time it was _Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters_. They sang through the lobby and up to the elevators.

They sang on the elevator, Emily leaning on Hotch and Penelope on Derek. They sang all the way down the hall of the 6th floor, not really accounting for people who might be asleep since it was after midnight. Hotch stopped Emily at her door. She and Penelope hugged as if they were in an airport and never gonna see each other again as opposed to friends who were sleeping in rooms next door to each other.

Opening the door with the keycard, Hotch was surprised when the band broke out with _So Long, Farewell_ from _The Sound of Music_. He let it go on for a while before pulling Emily inside.

“You just wanna be alone with me.” she teased as he locked the door.

Hotch didn’t answer as he looked around the room. He didn’t take off his gun, didn’t want to scare Emily. He also didn’t think anyone was in there but wasn’t gonna take any chances.

“One bed again.” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want to take this relationship to the next level? Let me help you get your gun out of that holster.”

Before Hotch could register anything, or even speak, she was in his arms. She was all over him and for a moment he surrendered to it. Then his sense came back.

“Emily, Emily stop. You're drunk…Emily stop.”

“Tell me you don’t want me, Hotch.” her tongue ran over his lips and she felt him quiver. “Just tell me and this will be over before it starts.”

“We’re not going to do this. Emily…Emily.”

She went down on her knees and started working his belt and zipper. Oh dear God, Hotch thought, stop her. You need to stop her before this goes someplace where neither of you can return from. But Hotch couldn’t do it. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her no. He was going to burn in hell but the blowjob was the best he ever had in his life. The way she took him in deep and hummed against his rough skin made him want to scream.

“Oh God, Emily, oh my God, Emily!” he reached down, caressing the back of her head. “Don’t stop; ohhh…”

She smiled against his erection, knew what she was doing to him. Her head was swimming but she still knew what it was like when a man enjoyed a little special attention, as her stepmother called it. Emily loved speeding up, slowing down, jerking, stroking, deep throating, and every trick in between. Hotch had a monster cock and even though she’d probably never know for sure, she was willing to bet the house he knew how to use it.

Damn, she would love to feel it inside of her. She hadn't had sex since Scranton. That was some damn good sex too. But when Emily was drunk she was horny. Right now she was horny as hell.

Hotch lurched forward, crying out her name with his climax. He couldn’t believe Emily swallowed every drop of him. He couldn’t believe Emily was down on her knees in front of him doing what she was doing. He pulled her up, his mouth rough against hers as they kissed. In a matter of moments they were on the bed and Hotch was working her skirt up. He snapped the string on her bikini panties. He had to have her now and didn’t want anything in the way.

“Fuck me, Aaron.” she said, kissing him again.

He could taste himself all over his tongue. He explored her mouth deeply. Emily reached down to stroke his erection, almost back to where it needed to be. His hand was soon on top of hers helping it along. The moment he could, he sank deep inside of her and groaned.

This wasn’t going to be sweet lovemaking and it wasn’t going to last long. Hotch would never scare her by telling her how many years had passed since he’d been with a woman. Instead he did what she asked; he fucked her. Pulling her tank top and bra down at the same time, Hotch kissed her breasts. He gasped when he saw the nipple ring, Emily gasping at the same time he thrust deep. She wrapped her legs around him as he fucked her, holding on tight and enjoying the ride.

“Mmm, Hotch, oh yeah. Mmm, fuck yeah.”

“Damn, oh God, I'm sorry, oh God.”

He was falling and his hand found her clit so she would be with him. He’d already come once, what kind of selfish bastard wouldn’t make sure that she fell too. He stroked her clit; felt it pulse and contract between his fingers. Hotch loved the feeling of Emily gripping his hips. He loved the way she whimpered when he touched her most intimate place. He loved feeling her come. It was a powerful climax and triggered his.

It was as if he came back to reality after he was drained of everything. Oh my God, he fucked Emily Prentiss. He fucked Emily Prentiss without a condom. He fucked Emily Prentiss. This was as bad as bad could get.

Without any pomp or circumstance, Hotch pulled away from her and sat on the side of the bed. He quickly cleaned himself up, not sure what to do next. Emily didn’t bother to try to cuddle or reassure. She was a smart woman…surely knew regret when she felt it. He wanted to tell her it wasn’t like that.

He didn’t quite regret the act, it was fuckin awesome, but he was on duty. He was protecting her and the last thing they needed was to lose control. He lost complete control. He felt her get off the bed and go into the bathroom. When the door closed and the shower came on, Hotch pulled his cell phone from his hip. Good idea or bad, he wasn’t sure but he had to do something.

“Hotch, what's the matter? Is Emily alright?”

“I um…she’s fine. I just crossed the line; I really crossed the line.”

What took you so long, Jason wanted to ask but didn’t. He just sighed into the phone and told Hotch it would be alright. If he needed to talk then Jason was there to listen to any and everything.

“Where's Emily?” he asked.

“She's in the shower. I need to talk but I can't leave her alone.”

“Come to the door; we’ll talk a little in the hallway.”

“Yeah, OK. Thank you Jason and I'm so sorry.”

“What the hell are you sorry for, being human? You don’t need to be apologizing to me and please, for the love of Mike, do not apologize to Emily. She’ll probably slug you.”

“So noted. I'm coming right now.”

***

She was happy for the time off. For over a month it had been hotels, motels, and Holiday Inns. There were burgers, beers, and barstools. They traveled around in a mini-bus and van, which wasn’t exactly the height of luxury. Since Baltimore, Aaron Hotchner had been sticking too close so there wasn’t much personal time.

Emily understood why but it was still uncomfortable. Then Adam was there, making his movie. He filmed shows, set-ups, and talked to the band and their fans. Not a single personal moment was to be had out there. There surely was no time for long baths, cat cuddling, or reading.

She had written two songs with Penelope and that felt good. But Emily planned to spend her three days back home away from her band. When they arrived back in the city on Thursday evening, Emily went to Penelope’s apartment to pick up George. He was always so happy to see her and the feeling was mutual.

Since the friends lived within walking distance, Emily just walked home. It was humid in Manhattan but she could care less. It did give her a chance to prove that Aaron Hotchner did indeed sweat in his perfect black suits. Inside her apartment, Emily gave him a bottle of water and told him to relax.

“Is it alright if I spend this weekend alone?” she asked. “You're great at your job and good company but…”

“I understand that you want some time to yourself.” Hotch said. “I can't say I feel comfortable with that; especially after Nashville.”

“I was going to call Sam. Do you think if he stuck to me like glue then that would be OK?”

Emily didn’t want to be rude but she needed the FBI out of her face. She wanted Hotch to solve this; didn’t want to a victim. But three days was all she had. She didn’t plan to spend it playing Whitney Houston to his Kevin Costner.

“I think that would be good.” Hotch said. “Do you mind calling him right now? There are some things I want to talk to him about. I'm afraid if I call him outright he’ll be afraid something’s happened to you. I don’t want to upset him.”

“Sure.”

Emily sat on the arm of her couch, kicked off her clogs, and pressed a button on her cell phone. Then she listened to it ring.

“Hey you.” Sam’s voice was cheerful when he answered the phone. “How are you? Where are you tonight?”

“I'm home.”

“You are? That’s great!”

“I'm glad you feel that way. My parole officer needs to talk to you.” Emily laughed. “Hold on.”

“What? Hello? Emily?”

“Hi Sam.”

“Oh hi, Agent Hotchner. You must be the parole officer she was talking about.”

“She might think so, yes. I've been sticking close to Emily as we received two strange letters and had two incidents on the road.”

“Incidents; what does that mean exactly? Emily told me about the light fixture in Baltimore but I was under the impression that was an accident.”

“The truth of the matter is that we just don’t know.” Hotch replied. “Emily’s gonna be home for a few days and she needs some space. I don’t feel comfortable leaving her alone right now. She suggested you so I hope its not short notice but…”

“I won't let her out of my sight.” Sam said.

“Great. I’d need you to come over tonight and stay until Monday when she heads back out on the road again.”

“I can do that; it’s not a problem.”

“One more thing, Sam, and this might sound strange.”

“What is it?”

“Do you have a registered firearm?” Hotch asked.

“Yes, and I also have a license to carry it concealed.”

“Put it on and wear it at all times. I'm not trying to frighten you but anything is possible.”

“Of course.” Sam replied. That did frighten him but he didn’t tell Hotch. He would do whatever he needed to to protect Emily. “Better safe than sorry, right?”

“That’s exactly how I feel. I'm going to give the phone back to Emily now.”

“Thank you Agent Hotchner. Hey.”

“You have a gun?” Emily asked. “How come I didn’t know that?”

“Because you'd want me to teach you how to shoot.” Sam replied.

“I already know how to shoot, smartass. Will you let me play with it?”

“It’s not a toy. I'm on my way over there. We’ll bicker about it some more then. Just sit tight and don’t drive Agent Hotchner out of his mind.”

“Too late.” She laughed.

“I bet. I'm glad that you're home and that you're safe, Emily. This whole business is really scary for me so I can't imagine what its like for you.”

“It’s no picnic in the park. I really appreciate you killing your weekend to be with me.”

“Being with you makes my weekend.” Sam replied. “I’ll be there in a little while.”

“I love you, Sam.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

Emily hung up her phone, slipping it back into the pocket of her Levi’s.

“You'll stay until Sam gets here?” she asked.

“Yes.” Hotch nodded.

“Do you want a cup of tea?”

“That sounds great.”

He didn’t want to rub his eyes but couldn’t help it. Sleep was lacking during this assignment. There was a lot of traveling and after Baltimore he kept a closer eye on Emily. She was a night owl so when she was up, Hotch was up. In Nashville someone got close enough to touch her.

Hotch was so angry about that. She clearly wasn’t safe but Hotch couldn’t profile from the letters just what kind of danger Emily was in. The writer was clearly delusional. The last two letters talked of consuming her but there was no real talk of sexual violence or murder. Emily swore the voice she heard was a woman’s, or at least a very soft spoken man.

Also, if the stalker got that close how come they hadn't done anything? Well, they did cut a lock of her hair. What the hell was that? Nothing was missing from her hotel room…stalkers usually wanted souvenirs. She was alone when he came in; he could’ve taken her then if he wanted to.

Hotch couldn’t believe he let someone get that close to her. Emily insisted on having her own room. She said she wanted to take a hot shower and sleep naked. Hotch and Jason were right next door with the adjoining doors ajar. Still, if this stalker had murder on his mind, Emily would've been dead by the time they burst into the room.

“You look tired.” Emily said when he sat on one of the barstools at her counter.

“You're not the only one who will appreciate a little time off.” Hotch replied. “I have to admit not being used to keeping a rock band’s touring schedule. I’ll still be working this weekend but I might be able to get seven hours of sleep. It’s a goal.”

“It’s good to have goals.” She smiled.

“Emily, about what happened…”

“You don’t have to do that. We’re both grownups and enjoyed the moment. I mean, I hope we both enjoyed the moment.”

“I enjoyed the moment.” Hotch barely whispered.

“Good. It was just a moment, a nice one, but it doesn’t define us or this entire experience. I just hope you have no regrets. It’s not worth regrets, Hotch.”

“I'm alright. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” She nodded. “Have you had a discussion with the Nashville police about forensics from the hotel room?”

“Unfortunately hotel rooms are usually full of fingerprints and other forensics. It could be another week or so but I'm in touch with Detective Charlotte Russet; she's keeping me in the loop.”

“OK.”

As the kettle whistled, Emily busied herself preparing tea. She needed something else on her mind but as hard as she tried, this situation always pushed itself to the forefront. This three days home, away from Aaron Hotchner and even her friends, was essential to getting her mind right. She had no idea how long she was expected to function with this danger right on top of her. Even the strongest person would collapse from the weight of it.

***

They'd gone to see _The 40 Year Old Virgin_ and then had a late dinner. Emily and Sam laughed through the entire film. They laughed more at dinner. It was just good to be home and good to be with him. Emily was surprised by how at ease she felt cohabitating with Sam.

It was only for a few days but she was usually selfish with her space beyond an overnight sleepover. They walked home from the café where they had dinner. It was a hot night but there was rain in the air. Emily smiled, holding Sam’s hand and inhaling that perfect summer storm smell.

“You look absolutely blissful.” He said.

“I feel that way. I don't know, on one side of the coin all hell is breaking loose. But there's something else in me right now and it feels so good.”

“What is it?”

“Dare I say its you, Sam Kassmeyer.” Emily looked at him.

“What did I do?”

“I think you cast a spell on me.”

“What?” Sam crinkled his nose.

“I think you need to kiss me.”

Emily stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and wrapped her arms around his neck. Sam wasn’t sure what to do but he held her close.

“This is déjà vu.” He whispered.

Emily just smiled as Sam kissed her. The champagne bubbles in her belly made her feel heady. His lips on hers lifted her off the ground. This was something she’d never felt before. How was it possible to feel that with someone she’d known a decade and surely kissed before?

“Kiss me again.” she said.

“We’ll go inside…people are staring.” Sam kissed her nose.

“When we go inside will you kiss me again?”

“I'm afraid I won't be able to stop myself.”

Emily just grinned as they went back to holding hands and walking. On Thursday and Friday night, Sam slept on her couch. It was comfortable and he was there to protect Emily, not seduce her. There had been some distance between them, physical and emotional, since Scranton. Sam wasn’t sure what to say or how to feel.

The idea of bringing it up to Emily troubled him. They could talk about anything and always had. But he didn’t want her to be casual or flippant about them making love, as if it meant nothing. Sometimes people slept around and it didn’t mean anything.

It always did to Sam…it meant even more when he was with Emily. He couldn’t bear the thought that it was just another romp for her. He didn’t want to hear that she had no romantic feelings for him. He surely didn’t want to hear that she still loved Ian Doyle.

“I feel light but you feel heavy, Sam. What's up?”

“Hmm?”

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“I have a lot on my mind but I won't burden you with that. I'm here to keep you company.”

“We’re friends though Sam, always. Everything isn’t always about me. Whenever you want to talk about anything, large or small, I'm here to listen. Your stuff has always been important to me. I mean that.”

“And I appreciate that.” he smiled.

“I mean it.” she repeated.

Sam nodded, giving her hand a healthy squeeze. Emily leaned and placed a kiss on his shoulder. They walked another half mile in companionable silence. Fishing for her house keys from the small purse that seemed to swallow everything, Emily opened the front door. She and Sam walked up the stairs and she opened her apartment door.

“I left the kitchen light on.” Emily started inside but Sam held her back. “I guess the bulb blew.”

“I’ll go in first Emily, OK?”

“Seriously?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, I'm being serious. I'm sure it’s just a blown bulb but I’d feel better.”

“Fine; should I cling to you and quiver too?”

“Stop.” Sam playfully pinched her nose.

He walked into the apartment with Emily beside him. She was holding onto him because she couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face. It was pitch black. All Sam could think about was tripping over George and breaking every bone in his body.

By the time he heard the gunshot, the bullet was already ripping through his body. Emily screamed as lamplight flooded the room. She squinted against the brightness. Sam groaned, gripping his chest as he fell to his knees.

“Sam!” she screamed. “Oh my God, Sam!”

“Run Emily.” Sam fell over. “Run!”

“Don’t you move.” The gunman said.

Emily was frozen in her spot. Sam was probably dying on the floor beside her and she literally couldn’t move. What was she thinking? Emily felt as if she’d been hit with a sledgehammer.

“Adam, what the hell are you doing?” she asked, trying not to sound as freaked out as she was. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Fuck Adam, I had to get rid of him.” a woman’s voice with a Southern drawl replied.

 _Oh my God_ , Emily thought as her heart beat so fast she thought it was going to leap out of her chest. _I know that voice. I’ll never forget it_. That was the voice in her hotel room that night. That was the voice of the person who cut her hair. It didn’t make sense because she was looking at Adam Jackson. She knew him; had known him for years.

“Where is Adam?” Emily asked. It was a ridiculous question but she asked anyway.

“It doesn’t matter, I'm here now. My God, you are so beautiful.” He came closer, still gripping the gun.

It was a .22 caliber handgun. Emily recognized it from watching too many episodes of Law and Order. Struggling to tear her eyes away from it and check on Sam, she saw he wasn’t moving. Dear God, she prayed, if you truly exist don’t let him be dead. I don’t care if its selfish please just let him live. I’ll give up anything if you spare Sam…he doesn’t deserve this. While you're at it, don’t let me die either.

“Adam, you don’t want to hurt me. We’ve been friends for the longest. Remember we met during the Subway Series party at Kyle Collins’ place?”

“Stop calling me Adam!” he shouted. “Adam is a punk bitch. He got close to you so many times and he did nothing. I pushed him but he wouldn’t budge.” He stroked Emily’s cheek with the gun. “So I had to do this myself. Behind every man is a greater woman. Nevermind…Adam was never so great.”

“What's your name?” Emily asked.

“Don’t try to be sweet to me; it doesn’t fuckin work. We’re doing this tonight…I'm running out of time. C'mon.”

“Where are we going?” Emily asked as he grabbed her hand and started pulling her down the hall. “Please, we need to get Sam some help.”

“He’s dead. I'm afraid he was collateral damage. You’ll be gone soon too but no one will know.”

“Adam…”

“If you call me that again I’ll blow your brains out.” he replied calmly, brushing a long brown lock off his shoulder.

He was wearing a bad wig. Strangely, it was the first time Emily noticed the hair. Adam always had long hair but this was long and curly and just cheap looking. He pushed her down on the bed, taking the backpack from his back. The gun was trained on Emily’s chest as he grabbed the duct tape.

If she kicked him right now she might be able to get away. He could also accidentally shoot her in the chest. Adam grabbed Emily’s wrists hard and tied them together. Then he did the same with her ankles. This could not be happening; it just couldn’t be happening. When would the director yell cut?

“If I can't call you Adam then what should I call you?” Emily asked. “It’s not fair that you know my name and I don’t know yours.”

“Life is unfair, though you wouldn’t know anything about that. Everything was handed to you on a silver platter; you never struggled just to breathe and exist. You have no idea what some of us have been through.”

Sure that Emily couldn’t get away, Adam stood and went over to the closet door. He threw it open with a flourish, as if a new car waited inside.

“Tell me which outfit is your favorite.” He said.

“What?”

“Tell me which outfit is your favorite. Its time for the transition to begin.”

000

Sam knew he didn’t have the strength to sit up and get his gun from his ankle. He could feel the blood soaking his Mets tee shirt and he definitely felt the hole in his chest. He tried and failed to take a deep breath. Sam bit back a groan of pain. He didn’t want Adam to think he was still alive and come to finish the job.

But he had to get Emily away from him. Gathering all the strength he had, Sam grabbed his cell phone from his hip. He flipped it open and pressed seven. Sometimes his friends and family laughed at him for being so ridiculously organized. Sam was so grateful that he put Agent Hotchner’s number on his speed dial.

“Hey Sam.” Hotch answered. “Sam?”

“Help.” He barely whispered. “It’s Adam, Agent Hotchner. He shot me and he has Emily. We’re in her apartment.”

“Sam, we’re on our way. You hold on; we’ll be there soon.”

“Hurry, I don’t want him to hurt Emily.”

Sam hung up the phone and just left it lying on the floor. He had no use for it anyway. Trying to take shallow breaths, Sam moved his body just the slightest inch. Pain moved through him but he did his best to ignore it. With Herculean effort, he made it onto his side. He could do it; he had to do it. Saving Emily was all that mattered.

000

“This dress sucks.” Adam threw it on the floor. “This one can't be your favorite. Are you lying to me?”

“No.” Emily shook her head.

“It’s just too plain Jane.” He kicked the purple mini-dress away. It doesn’t do your amazing femininity any justice and will do nothing for me. I like this one.” He grabbed a red, flapper style dress. “I really like this one. This one is sexy and adventurous. It’s very me.” Holding it up in front of him, Adam posed at the closet mirror.

“I wore that last Halloween.” Emily said.

“I remember that. Ooh, with those great red leather boots. Yes, yes, this will be perfect. Get the boots for me…I wanna try them on. I wanted to tell you how much I loved your look that night but Adam wouldn’t let me. He never lets me do anything but this time I shut him up permanently.”

“What did you do to him?”

“The same thing I'm gonna do to you, and it’s for the best. I had to consume him. No one’s gonna miss him.”

He went back to rummaging through the closet, pulling out outfits he liked and giggling like an overeager teenager girl. Emily wanted to jump him but he also held tight to the gun. What the hell did consume mean? This was Adam; he was her friend. Yet everything about him was suddenly feminine.

He was feminine and very manic. Emily had manic friends; recognized the behavior. Adam never acted manic before…this person clearly wasn’t Adam. He spoke with a Southern lilt, wore that wig, and carried himself like a woman would. It was weird to see since he wore ratty jeans, a Rilo Kiley tee shirt, and dusty green Chucks.

“What does consume mean?” Emily asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

“You'll find out soon enough.” He replied in a singsong voice.

000

He had no idea how he’d made it as far as he had. Sam was close to the front door now. He wanted to try to get down the hallway, get to Emily, but he still couldn’t reach his gun. If Adam shot him again he was a goner. He was a goner either way probably.

Sam didn’t feel pain anymore and he was cold. But if he could just get out to the hallway then maybe he could get help. Agent Hotchner said he was on his way but Sam lost track of how much time passed. It was getting harder to move…he needed to just close his eyes and rest. He could rest some and then he’d feel much better.

The door unlocked with a soft click. Jason opened it slowly, not sure what to expect. Both he and Hotch had guns drawn and were prepared to do what they had to. Despite that, Jason gasped when he saw Sam lying face down by the kitchen counter.

He holstered his gun and rushed to his aid. Feeling for a pulse, Jason knew Sam was alive. He didn’t know how much longer that would be if they didn’t get him some help. He moved Sam onto his back and saw the blood staining his shirt.

“Sam? Sam, I need you to stay with me. We’re gonna get you some help.”

“Jason?”

“Its me…we’ll get some help.”

Hotch pointed down the hall and Jason nodded. He could hear voices coming from the bedroom. That wasn’t his concern right now. Jason grabbed his cell phone from his hip and dialed 911.

“This is FBI Agent Jason Gideon. I'm at 372 23rd Street and we have a shooting and possible hostage situation. We need police and ambulance but no sirens. We don’t want to spook this guy. There are two agents, two civilians, and a gunman inside. Hurry please.” He hung up the phone and focused on Sam, who was cold and losing blood.

“You're going to be OK, Sam.” Jason took his hand. He wanted him to feel comfort in case it was the last thing he felt. No one wanted to think like that but who knew how long he’d been lying there.

“Please save Emily.” Sam whispered. “Please.”

“Hotch is going to get her…everything will be alright.”

“You have to tell her how much I love her.”

“You can tell her yourself when this is all over.” Jason replied.

“Jason please.” Sam tried to squeeze his hand. “Please, if I don’t make it tell Emily that I love her. I love her and Scranton was the best night of my life. I've always loved her. You have to tell her; she has to know.”

“I’ll tell her Sam; I promise.”

000

Hotch inched along the wall in the hallway. He heard a female voice but it wasn’t Emily’s. It was soft, Southern, and something was sinister about it. Coming to the half-open bedroom door, Hotch spotted Emily on the bed. She looked frightened; her wrists and ankles bound with duct tape. When she saw him, her brown eyes grew wide. Hotch held his finger to his lips. Emily gave a little nod.

“Some of this jewelry is really nice.” Adam dumped the jewelry box on the dresser; rummaging through rings, earrings, and bracelets. “What's this?”

“It’s a Claddagh ring; Ian gave it to me.”

“Oh fuck him.” Adam threw it across the room. Emily had to move so it didn’t hit her as it flew by. “What were you thinking with that guy? I won't be so stupid…I’ll only be with a man who respects me. Ian was such a waste of space. I wanted to shove him down a flight of stairs more times than I can count.”

“I can't say I disagree.” Emily replied.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion. It doesn’t matter anymore…I'm you now. You’re about to be gone so what you think doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” Hotch stepped into the room. He quickly stepped back out when Adam shot at the door. The wood splintered near him but he wasn’t hit.

Emily grimaced as Adam gripped her hard by the arm. He stood her up straight, which wasn’t easy the way her ankles were bound, but he held her partially in front of him.

“C'mon in Agent Hotchner.” Adam said. “Actually, you're just the man to help me out.”

“The only thing I can do for you is get you away from Emily. That’s going to be beneficial to us all.”

“Don’t worry, this will all be over soon and I’ll be Emily. You’ve been watching her; do you think I’ll make a good Emily? Will you want to touch and fuck me like you want to touch and fuck her? No need to get shy now, Agent Hotchner. If there's one thing I know it’s the look in a man’s eye when he wants to bend you over and fuck you. Will you look at me like that too?”

“Adam…”

“I'm not fuckin Adam!” he screamed. “I'm Emily, call me Emily!”

“I can't do that.” Hotch replied.

“Will you do it when she's gone?” Adam asked, cocking the gun and holding it to Emily’s temple.

“You don’t want to hurt her. She’s done nothing to you.”

“It’s her or me, and dammit it’s not going to be me anymore. All I've done for him and he left me trapped in here. I saved his fuckin life; I deserve to live mine now. I'm tired of being pushed aside and ignored.” Tears blurred his eyes. “No one ignores her; everyone wants to be around her. I want to feel that if just for a few moments. I want…”

Hotch fired his Glock and Adam flew back into the closet door. Emily tried to move away, almost falling because she couldn’t move freely. Hotch rushed to catch her before that happened. He moved her to the bed before going over to Adam.

“Ow!” he exclaimed. “What the fuck, Hotch? You fuckin shot me. What the fuck!”

“I have to put you under arrest.” Hotch replied, helping him stand despite a bullet wound in his upper arm.

“Why? What did I do?” he looked at Emily. “Emily? What are you doing here? Where are we? What the hell is going on?”

“Adam Jackson, you're under arrest for stalking and attempted murder.”

“What? I was…what? Ow, be careful with my arm dude. Why did you shoot me?”

“What about Sam, Hotch? Is Sam alright?”

“I don't know. Adam Jackson, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

“Jason!” Emily exclaimed. “Jason!”

He came rushing into the room, four cops with him. They took custody of Adam while Jason rushed to get the duct tape off Emily’s wrists and ankles.

“Is Sam dead?” she asked, unable to control the tears sliding down her face. “Please just tell me the truth. Tell me he's not dead.”

“An ambulance took him to New York Presbyterian Hospital.” Jason replied. “He was alive when he left here.”

“We have to get to him.” Emily rushed to the bedroom door.

“Ma'am, we need to get a statement from you.” the police officer said.

“Then you'll have to come to the hospital. I need to be with Sam. Hotch, Jason; please.”

“We’ll go to the hospital.” Jason put his arm around her. “If you'll escort us, Emily would be happy to give you a full statement. She's just really concerned about her friend and wants to make sure he's OK.”

The police officer nodded and they all made their way out of the apartment.

***

The hospital was loud and chaotic. Emily had no idea how but news traveled fast of Adam Jackson having some kind of mental breakdown and trying to murder her and her friend. Her cell phone rang off the hook, eventually she just turned it off so she wouldn’t smash it against the wall. Jason took it and put it in his pocket. Her band mates showed up within a half hour. So did her parents, Sam’s dad, and eager members of the press who Hotch quickly showed the door.

This wasn’t how anyone wanted to get famous. The police took Emily, accompanied by Jason, into the chapel for privacy. They interviewed her thoroughly; no detail left out. She was still quite shaken. It seemed improbable that Adam could do something like this to her. But that person she was with tonight wasn’t Adam.

He said he wanted to consume her and while Emily could guess, she had no idea what he meant by that. He talked about being ignored, brushed aside, abused, but those things never happened to Adam as far as she knew. Of course how much do you really know about someone, whether you know them 5 years, 5 minutes, or a lifetime. Emily knew she wasn’t supposed to leave that apartment alive tonight. It was possible that Sam wouldn’t make it just because he was trying to protect her.

“How is he?” she jumped on Hotch when he walked into the chapel. Emily could care less if the police were done. She was tired and only one thing mattered to her right now.

“He’s in surgery. The doctor said it could be another hour or so before they have any information for us.”

“An hour or so; what does that even mean?”

“Emily, you have to calm down and let them do their jobs.” Jason put his hand on her shoulder. She was breathing in spurts, almost like a bull ready to charge, and her heart was beating too fast. He didn’t want her to have an anxiety attack.

“I need a smoke.” She headed for the door.

“Are we free to go?” Jason asked.

The cops nodded so he followed her. They were on the sixth floor and soon as everyone saw Emily, they bombarded her. She couldn’t handle it so she grabbed Penelope and literally ran down the hall. Jason had to go after her, catching up at the elevator. That left Hotch to calm everyone down and give them information that they could process. He was used to that so he took a deep breath and dove in.

000

“I can't stop shaking.” Emily said.

Penelope gently took the Zippo lighter from her trembling hands and lit the clove. Emily took a deep inhale, held it, exhaled, and then burst into tears. Her best friend took hold of her. They stood outside of the ER crying and hugging. Jason stood over them, his hands on both of their backs. How were they ever truly going to grip what happened tonight?

“What if he doesn’t make it?” Emily asked, moving away suddenly. She used her free hand to wipe her messy face. “What if Sam doesn't make it? How will I…his father will never forgive me. I’ll never forgive myself. God, I've been nothing but trouble for him since the day we met. How can he love me as much as he does?”

“You’ve got to think positive, Peaches.” Penelope replied. “Sam is strong and he will fight to stay alive.”

“What about Adam, Jason?”

“They removed the bullet from his arm. He’s resting and will be taken to jail as soon as he's recovered. I figure they won't keep him longer than overnight.”

“He wasn’t himself.” Emily held her trembling hand to her mouth, inhaling more of the sweet poison. “He just…I don’t know who was in that room with me but it wasn’t Adam. I know that makes no sense but its still true.”

“I believe you.” Penelope said, putting her arm around her. “We know him; he's not capable of doing something like this.”

“Sometimes you think you know someone and it turns out that you don’t at all.” Jason replied.

“No,” Emily shook her head. “She said she consumed Adam just like she was going to consume me. She said she was pushing him to take advantage of our being close but he resisted. I don’t know who the hell that was but I'm never going to believe it was Adam. God,” she shivered. “I just want them to tell us something. I'm going crazy without information. I need to know something.”

***

Sam opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. His vision was blurry and his mouth dry. He wanted to cough a bit but feared his chest would explode. He knew there had been an operation; the doctors saved his life.

Sam didn’t know how they did it but he was here. Here was a hospital bed in a room with harsh fluorescent lighting. And she sat in the chair beside the bed holding his hand. Emily was asleep but still holding on.

“Emily,” he whispered, not sure if he’d spoken at all. “Emily?”

She opened her eyes and smiled. Scooting closer to the bed, Emily held his hand tighter.

“It’s so good to see you.” she said. “Oh God, I was so worried.”

“Are you alright?” Sam asked.

“I'm fine.”

“Did Adam…?”

“He didn’t hurt me. Something was wrong with him, Sam. Hotch shot him but didn’t kill him. He’s recovering here too. Everyone’s out there because they were worried about you. Your dad’s here; Jason took him for coffee. The doctor said it might be awhile before you woke up.”

“What's the prognosis?”

“You're going to be alright. The doctor said if it was a few inches to the left you could’ve died on the spot. They got the bullet out and you had to have a blood transfusion. Four of us matched you…we rolled up our sleeves. So you might be here for a few days but they expect you to recover fully.”

“Did Jason tell you what I said?” Sam asked.

“No,” Emily shook her head. “When?”

“When I thought I was dying.”

“He didn’t tell me anything. What did you say; is there something you need to tell me?”

“Well…”

His father walked in and interrupted. Michael Kassmeyer smiled when he saw his son awake and communicating. He came over to the bed. Emily decided to give them a few moments alone.

“I'm not going far, I promise.” Emily said. “We’ll talk again.”

She pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Sam couldn’t help but smile. When she tried to walk away, he held her hand just a little tighter.

“I love you, Emily.”

“I love you too. I’ll be back.”

She left the room and went into the waiting room. It was after one in the morning but they were all still there.

“You guys need to go home, seriously.” Emily said. “I'm so grateful that you’ve stood by me, and Sam, but its time for this night to end.”

“Are you staying?” Natalie asked.

“Absolutely.” She nodded. “I just want to be with him. The nurses are kind enough to let me hang around.”

“You shouldn’t be alone.” Derek and Jason said in unison.

“I'm a big girl. Please, I’ll be OK.”

“I'm staying.” Hotch said. “I'm staying for at least a little while.”

Emily wanted to argue but honestly didn’t have any fight left in her. She needed some air and another clove. Her family and friends started to gather their belongings. There were many hugs; that helped Emily feel better. She promised to call everyone by noon tomorrow.

“And then there were two.” She said when she was alone with Hotch.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I guess so. What’s going to happen to Adam?”

“They’ll keep him overnight before transferring him to Bellevue for observation. I was allowed to talk to him and he told me the last thing he remembers before getting shot is taking a shower on Thursday after getting back to town. He had no idea why I shot him or what happened to you and Sam.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Emily shook her head.

“He told me that he’s had blackouts before, sometimes for a couple of hours but nothing like this.”

“Do you think, I don't know, that he could have another personality? Please don’t laugh; I know a lot of people don’t believe in that.”

“In what?” Hotch asked.

“Multiply personality disorder. I can admit to only knowing about _The Three Faces of Eve_ and Viki on _One Life to Live_. That’s not exactly scientific evidence in its favor.”

“Its called Dissociative Identity Disorder now and there's much evidence for and against it.” Hotch said. “I'm not a doctor. I’ll leave it to them to diagnose him.”

“If he's sick, Hotch, I don’t want him in prison. Adam is my friend.”

“There's a lot that needs to happen before we even think about that.”

“OK.” Emily nodded. She sighed, standing from the uncomfortable chair. “I really need a clove. Are you coming with me?”

“Yeah.”

They walked around the corner and saw Ian Doyle coming toward them. Emily kept thinking that this was déjà vu. She couldn’t deal with him right now; there wasn’t enough strength in the world.

“Ian, what are you doing here?” she asked.

He looked at Hotch but the FBI agent made no move to speak or leave them alone.

“Paul Collins called and told me that there was some kind of incident at your apartment. He said that you'd been shot. Are you alright?”

“I'm fine. I didn’t get shot.”

“Then what are you doing at the hospital?” he asked.

“Sam got shot. It was touch and go for awhile but he's going to be OK. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Just because we’re not together anymore doesn’t mean I can just turn off worrying about you, Em. I can't turn off loving you either.”

“Ian…”

“Look, can you just hear me out.”

“I can't tell you how many times I've done that when you asked. I can't do it anymore.”

“We hurt each other, Emily. It wasn’t just me…I'm not evil.”

“I know.” She sighed. “You’ve got problems though and I refuse to be pulled under by your riptide again. I nearly drowned. You cannot keep getting plastered and harassing me. I’ll be forced to get an order of protection against you if you do.”

“I'm sober now.” Ian replied. “I'm sober and I just want to talk. We’re leaving, Emily. Sean suggested a change of scenery and the whole band thinks it’s a good plan. Good things are happening in Toronto; we've got some connections there. I'm gonna go to Arizona for a little while and then head up north.”

“What's in Arizona?”

“Rehab. I've turned into a walking rock n roll cliché and I'm done. I'm losing everything I care about. We may never get back together but there are other things I hold sacred that I don’t want to lose.”

“Well I wish you the best of luck, Ian. I really do.”

“I know.” He nodded. “I gotta go, I got a ride downstairs. I'm glad you're alright and that Sam will be too. See ya.”

He turned to walk away and was halfway down the hall when Emily ran to catch up with him.

“Ian…wait!”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to take care of yourself. I don’t hate you and I want you to take care of yourself. I don’t know where we went wrong but that’s all I've ever wanted. Please take care of yourself.”

“I will; you do the same. I love you, Emily Prentiss.”

She held up her hand to wave as he walked away again.

“Jesus.” She ran her hands over her face.

“Are you alright?” Hotch came up behind her. He put a tentative hand on her shoulder.

“I swear to God that’s the most rational conversation I've had with Ian in over a year. There are other things I want to say to him but I just can't trust that he’ll let it be the end. I have to let him walk away from me and I can't say what I want to say. I hate that more than anything. ”

“Not that I would ever recommend putting that poison in your lungs but you probably need a clove now.”

“It would be better than a frontal lobotomy, which is what I really feel like I need.”

***

“If you wanna fluff my pillows or rub my feet, I totally don’t mind at all.” Sam grinned over his bland rosemary chicken.

“I'm just trying to make sure you're comfortable. Stop it.”

“I'm fine.”

“God, I can't believe you were shot yesterday and we’re having a conversation today.”

“The doctors say I was really lucky. I know I feel that way.”

“I was petrified.” Emily sat down in the chair by his bed. “I prayed you know…prayed that you would be OK.”

“I'm going to be fine.” Sam said.

“But…”

“No buts.” He reached for her hand. “I'm going to be fine, Emily. Didn’t I throw you out of here this morning? What are you doing back?”

“I'm meeting the gang for dinner in a little while so I thought I’d come and say hello.”

“Hello.” Sam replied grinning.

“Is your dinner good?”

“Hell no but that just gives me more incentive to go home quicker. The doctor said I could be out of here by Wednesday.”

“Isn't that too soon?” Emily asked.

“Well my intent isn’t to start training for the Marine Marathon. I’ll have to rest for another week at home before I can go back to work.”

“I’ll be calling your dad daily to make sure you're resting too.”

“You're leaving again?” Sam tried not to sound too disappointed. This was her life and he knew how much being a musician meant to Emily.

“Jason was able to cancel the Monday show in Boston but we’re performing Tuesday night. Then it’s Providence, Toronto, Pittsburgh, and so on. I don’t want to leave you but the show must go on.”

“I understand.” He nodded.

“You wouldn’t even be here if it weren't for me, Sam. I'm so sorry that this happened to you.”

“Don’t do that. I mean that, don’t. I'm just glad you're OK. That’s all that matters to me. It was a hard night but we both made it through.”

“I really need a hug.”

Sam smiled, pushing his tray table aside. He held out his arms, ignoring the pain. The meds they gave him kept it mostly under control.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Sam.”

“Get up here, Prentiss.”

Emily smiled too, sitting on the bed and wrapping her arms around him. She never wanted to let go. Losing him was palpable; for hours she tried to wrap her mind around life with Sam.

“When I was lying there and honestly wasn’t sure if I was gonna make it, I told Jason to tell you that I love you. I will always love you, Emily. I tried to stop but it never seemed to work. Ever since Scranton…I'm in love with you.”

“Something changed.” She replied. “I felt it too, Sam. I don't know, I've never been good at this and I don’t want to mess it up. I can't imagine how many times I've hurt you. I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“What do you want to do?” Sam asked.

“I really wanna love you the way you love me.”

He took her face in his hands, kissing her nose and then her mouth.

“I’ll wait. I've waited for a decade, a little longer won't kill me.”

“Sam…”

“You can only do what you can do, Emily.” He said. “Please don’t feel as if you owe me something because I was shot. You're my best friend…I don’t mind taking a bullet. That doesn’t mean you have to love me.”

“Shut up you silly man.” Emily kissed him. “I love you. I love you, Sam.”

“That’s all that matters. We’ll make up the rest as we go along. It'll be an adventure; we could both use one.”

Emily hugged him tighter but was still careful. She wanted this. She wanted to be happy and truly believed she could be with Sam. He knew all of her sides, her quirks, and even her demons. If he loved her anyway that had to mean something right?

And even if it meant nothing, the butterflies in her stomach were good enough for her. Good, bad, or falling somewhere in between, Emily Prentiss followed her gut. Her gut brought her right into Sam’s arms. It was still the warmest place she’d ever been.

***

“I'm sure you guys know that I've been through some shit these past few months.” Emily said to a cheering Boston audience. “During all of it I had my band. I had my true friends and someone so special I can't exactly put it into words. I had my music and you guys too. I can't tell you how much all of your support has meant to me.

“But there was someone else in my life too. He wasn’t there for long but always had my back. He also had a Glock, which can be extremely helpful in dire situations.” The audience laughed and then cheered. “Anyway, we’re slowing it down to start the encore tonight and it’s dedicated to Hotch.”

The band started the opening chords for _Weekend in New England_. It was written for piano but Morgan being the genius he was put it to guitar and bass.

 _Last night I waved goodbye  
Now it seems years  
I'm back in the city  
Where nothing is clear  
But thoughts of me, holding you  
Bringing us near  
And tell me when will our eyes meet?  
When can I touch you?  
When will this strong yearning end?  
And when will I hold you again?_

000

“I don’t know how to thank you for that.” Hotch said, approaching Emily outside the mini-bus where she was smoking a clove.

“Oh wow, look at you.” she smiled. “I think the outfit is thanks enough.”

Hotch wore blue jeans, a Fordham University tee shirt, and a pair of blue and white shell-toed Adidas. His hair wasn’t gelled to death either; he almost looked relaxed.

“All you need is a cheap bottle of beer and you'd be a regular dude.”

“From you that’s a compliment.”

“I do what I can.”

“I have to go.” Hotch said.

“Yeah, duty calls right?” Emily asked.

“It always does. Your case isn’t officially closed; there's more work to do with Adam Jackson. And if it goes to trial we’ll see each other again.”

“I hope that’s not the only reason we see each other again. I know there's no plausible reason for us to cross paths but…I like you dammit.”

“I like you too, Emily. As happy as I am that this case ended without you being hurt I can admit that it’s hard to walk away now.”

“We’ll always have Memphis.” She stroked his face. “You know where to find me, Agent Hotchner. If you ever forget I know you'll always find Jason.”

“Yes.” He nodded. He took her hand and pulled her into a hug. It was slightly awkward but comforting too.

Emily drew him into a passionate kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and let it happen. It was nice, why shouldn’t he let something nice happen.

“Take care of yourself, Aaron Hotchner.” She said.

“You do the same.” he pulled a card from his jeans pocket. “If you ever want to talk, my work number and cell are on there.”

“OK.” Emily nodded. “Be careful what you wish for though. I've been known for 2am drunk dialing.”

Hotch squeezed her hand once more and turned to walk away. He was staying in a Boston hotel for the night before flying back to Quantico in the morning. He wasn’t sure if he would ever see Emily again but Hotch knew she would be OK. She had her band, her music, and people who truly loved her.

She had her spirit, which hadn't diminished one bit during this entire ordeal. All of that only made Emily stronger. The world was better for it. Maybe his time with her would change Hotch as well. It probably already had.

***

“I've got good news.” Jason said.

“The only good news I need is that we’re heading home.” Morgan replied. “You know I love the road but we aren’t U2. It’s probably so much easier in first class and at Hiltons.”

“Amen.” Coop sipped his Coke.

They were in the mini-bus taking the eight hour trip from Cleveland, Ohio, where they had their last two shows, back to New York City. August was almost over…summer nearly gone. There would be more dates in the winter and smaller performances in New York over the next few months.

Right now all they wanted to do was go home for a while and just relax. Spencer flew in to see them and now he was behind the wheel. He was driving the speed limit or like someone’s granny as Garcia said. The band was too tired to tell him speed up.

“So what's your good news, Gideon?” Penelope asked.

She was in full relax mode, her feet up on Morgan’s lap. Her yarn was all around her and she was creating. Penelope was happiest when she was creating. It didn’t matter if it was songs or socks…it was all an adrenaline rush for her.

“I got a call from Krista Vernoff two nights ago.”

“Who's Krista Vernoff?” Emily asked.

“She's one of the executive producers of _Grey’s Anatomy_. I thought you and Penelope might recognize the name; she used to be a producer on _Charmed_.”

“Do you now see the importance of reading the credits?” Penelope asked.

“I really do.” Coop replied smirking.

“Derek, hit Coop.”

They all laughed as Derek balled up a napkin and threw it at the drummer.

“Krista called to tell me that Ellen Pompeo is a big fan of the band. She’s been playing _Ashes and Dust_ a lot on set and the producers think _Don’t Ask Me Why_ and _Tangled Web_ would be ideal for Season 2 episodes coming down the pike.”

“ _Grey’s Anatomy_ wants to use our music?” Emily asked.

“They want to use your music.”

For a moment there was just silence. It seemed to last forever before it erupted into whoops of joy. They were jumping and hugging; Emily launched herself into Jason’s arms. Penelope was right behind her and they covered his face in kisses.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Emily said.

“You guys did all the hard work.” He replied. “I don’t even have to sell you…you're just damn good.”

“What are my chances of meeting and hooking up with Katherine Heigl?” Coop asked.

“Slim.” Reid replied from the driver’s seat.

They all laughed again. Coop crossed his arms.

“There's one more piece of good news.” Jason said.

“I don't know if I can take it.” Morgan replied, wrapping his arms around Penelope as she sat in his lap.

“Well hold onto your stomach Derek because I think you'll like this.”

“Give it to me.”

“Doug Elin’s people also got back to me this morning. They definitely want to use _Daytripping_ for a Season 2 episode of _Entourage_. It’s also possible that they’ll use _Push_ and _Blue Sunshine_ from the debut album. I'm waiting to hear about those.”

The band couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Two hot television shows wanted to use their songs. As if that wasn’t crazy enough, they were just invited to perform at the Harvest Festival in Austin, Texas for Halloween. They were doing a show before that on Emily’s birthday at CBGB. Jason set it up for at least three executives from major record labels to come and hear them play.

Their contract with Starlight Records had been fulfilled with their second album. Everyone was writing and though _Ashes and Dust_ had just been out for a couple of months they were all looking forward to what was next. By the New Year they could be playing in the big leagues. It had taken six years and a lot of sacrifice but this was what they wanted; what they'd been waiting for.

“Are you telling me that there's a damn good chance I could be buying a washer-dryer in the near future?” Coop asked.

“I'm buying a bike.” Morgan said. “A Harley Davidson Fat Boy is calling my name something fierce.”

“I want a new iMac.” Penelope said. “I can make our website a dream.”

“I still want my vacation. I think I’ll go back to Berlin and just commune with the bohemians.” Emily said. “I also don’t want us to change just because these amazing things are happening. Lets always remember this mini-bus, the shit hole bars, the late night jam sessions, and borrowing cigarette money from Jason.”

“That was me.” Coop raised his hand.

“Even if we blow up larger than we ever imagined, we can't forget it.” She went on. “It’s the five of us, always, no matter what.”

“Six.” Spencer called out.

“The six of us.”

“Get Spencer a bed, Morgan.” Penelope said laughing. “When we get famous you’ve got to buy Spencer a bed.”

***


End file.
